The Family Winchester
by wandertogondor
Summary: Part 2 is up! Dean and Sam track down their ex-Marine, middle sibling to tell her that John is dead. After seven years away from the family she loves so dearly, Max comes face to face with seven years of her brother's sins and secrets. SisFic. AU. Complete.
1. Daydream Believer

"Well, if it isn't the Blues Brothers."

"You gonna let us in?" Dean asked curtly, a smile starting on his mouth. I stared at them for a moment, contemplating whether I should or not. I sniffed and opened the door a bit wider for them to come in.

"How've you been doing, Max?" I gave Sam an exasperated look.

"What are you two jackasses doing here?"

"Who's she calling a jackass? She doesn't even have beer." Dean said, getting defensive.

"It's in the icebox, dipshit." I snapped.

"It's called a fridge, dumbass." I smirked, he hadn't changed one bit.

"So, what, you on a mission from God, now."

"No," Dean started before Sam could, popping open his newly found beer. "We saw that piece of crap you call a car and decided to come see you in all your infamous glory." He meant the musty old motel room.

"Hey, respect the Charger. My baby's got a 440 Magnum V8 engine…375 horsepower, bitch!"

"She's got a point Dean."

"Come here, hippie." I held my arms open to Sam for a hug. "Dude, are you trying to hug me or swallow me?"

"Sorry," Sam pulled away quickly. It was nice to be with my brothers again. I felt kinda whole again. I hadn't seen them in, what, seven years? I left a few months after Sam up-scrammed to Stanford. Gosh, that had been such a long time ago.

"I'm glad that here isn't a strange man in your bed."

"Yeah, why is that Dean-o?"

"I don't have to waste my bullets." I smiled. Yup, he was still the same. You'd think Dean would lose his big brother touch after seven years but I guess he compensated with Sam instead.

"How's Bobby?" I suddenly asked. "I haven't seen him in a while."

"Bobby's fine." Sam replied, tucking his hair behind his ears. "He's still grumpy."

"Well, that's Bobby. We wouldn't want him any other way."

"What do you use these days, Max?" Dean asked, settling down in a chair and kicking his feet up onto the table with a thud.

"AMT 1911A1 Hardballer. It's a doozy. You still use that shotgun?"

"Yup. I thought Dad changed you into a 9mil type of girl."

"WE can't all be what we want, Dean-o."

"That's kinda sick, don't you think Max?"

"You know what's really sick, Sam? The fact that you can't take out a friggin' Jefferson Starship with a friggin' Smith and Wesson."

"Which model?"

"1066." Dean nodded approvingly.

"I'm gonna get some food." Sam stated for the door, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "Chinese, good?"

"You still remember Jefferson Starships?" Dean asked after Sam had left.  
" Hideous bastards." I smiled, sitting across from him at the small table. "How've you two been holding up Dean?" I took a swig of his beer.

"Sam's been a pain in my ass."

"What else is new?" He reached out for his beer and I handed it back to him.

"Where the hell have you been, Max, huh? You don't call. You don't go to see Bobby?"

"I have my reasons, Dean."

"Oh, yeah, your reasons—"

"Yes, my reasons. Often described as an argument with logic."

"What are you reasons then?"

"I joined the Marines."

"What?" His eyebrows shot up with surprised anger.

"I thought I could take a chance at that new life. But it didn't work out. I did my four years, Dean." My voice was pleading for him to understand. "I'm done…I'm back, aren't I?"

"Did dad know?"

"Yes, of course, he—what do you mean: _did _dad know?" He took a deep breath, getting fidgety all of a sudden.

"Dad died Max. That's why we're here. It took us two years to track you down so we're a bit late on the news."

"Oh," I whispered, waves of sorrow crashing into me all at once. "Were you with him?"

"Yeah," I nodded, clenching my fists tightly to let out the anger. Dean came over, putting a hand on my shoulder and kissing the top of my head. "It'll be alright, monkee." I smiled despite my blinding tears. He had been calling me that ever since I was ten. "Cheer up sleepy Jean. Oh, what can it mean to a daydream believer and a homecoming queen?" I hugged him then. I cried into his shoulder and hugged him while he sang to me. I mean, Dean was no Frank Sinatra but he did alright for himself and for me. "You once thought of me as a white knight on a steed."

"And I still do, Dean." He smiled down at me, past him own tears, and kissed my forehead. He was a proper big brother Dean was. I stepped out of his embrace feeling peculiar all of a sudden. I dried my face and straightened myself out. I wasn't worried that Dean would tell anyone about my moment of weakness. I was worried about him. I was scared at how easily he poured him emotions out to me. He was always the strong one. The world must really be screwed if Dean Winchester is putting his feelings out onto a plate. It isn't a bad thing…it was just different. I brushed my tears off his shoulder awkwardly before handing him another beer.

"What does the Impala have that the Charger doesn't?"

"Manliness, for one. Not to mention a four barrel engine." He managed a wry grin. I squinted in irritation. I have to admit, I did ask for it.

"Screw you." Dean chuckled. "Are you still wearing that chastity belt?" He nearly choked on his beer and sat there laughing for a good five minutes. Suddenly he sat up straight, his face totally serious.

"Yes, I am." He admitted, sending the both of us into a fit of more choking and wheezing.

"What're you two laughing about?" Sam asked, a bag full of nice smelling food in his arm. Dean stood and started empting the bag.

"Don't worry about it Sammy."

"Yeah, we'll tell you when you're older." I patted my little brother's face and went straight for the fortune cookie.

"What does it say?" Dean asked, taking the strip of paper from me as well as half of my cookie. "'The hard times will begin to fade. Joy will take their place.'"

"Here's hoping." I murmured and had dinner with my family.

* * *

**I'd love some reviews. Tell me how you liked it...if you did**


	2. Little Talks

*2002*

"Maxine Winchester, where the hell have you been?" I smiled; I'd been practicing my excuse speech for quite some time now.

"I was just chatting it up with some nice guys at the pub, dad."

"You're not old enough to be hitting on random guys at bars, Max!" My father crossed his arms tightly against his chest. I glanced at Dean, hoping the damn King of One Night Stands would vouch for me. My brother just put his hands up.

"I'm with dad here, monkee." I took a deep breath and stood right in front of my dad, rocking back and forth a bit and grinning like a madman. When this didn't work—and it usually did—I hit John Winchester where it hurt. I started singing, tilting my head to the side.

"Oh daddy dear you know you're still number one but girls they wanna have fun." I kissed his stubble cheek, knowing by the look in his eyes that I had won. I was halfway to the bathroom when he spoke.

"We've got a lead on those vamps. Correspondents say they're nesting in the east side of the Sugarloaf Mountain."

"Good-o! I'd like me some of that sugarloaf." Neither of them laughed. "Well, uh, I'll be changed in, like, two shakes, yeah?"

"Oh no, sweetheart, you're parking your keister right here and gonna save that pretty smile for me the next time you stay out late 'chatting it up with some nice guys at the pub.'"

"Oh, come on Winchester!" I stamped my foot on the ground. "This isn't funny!"

"Damn straight it is!" My dad laughed, sliding into his jacket.

"If you leave me here I'll go out and sleep with some random dude." Dean began to chuckle but stopped short under our dad's glare. John Winchester cocked his shotgun as a warning.

"You better not, Max. Now, you know what to do. Dean and I'll be back in a few hours." Dean gave me an encouraging, and irritating, thumbs up while dancing victoriously out of the motel room.

* * *

*present*

"Where've you been?" Dean snapped, standing with his arms crossed just like dad. "Where've you been, Max?"

"Can we talk about this in the morning?" I sighed, my head spinning.

"How's this, babe?" A strange woman walked out of the bathroom, scantily clad. "Oh, my God!" She squealed and hid behind the curtains.

"Don't worry honey, I've got the same stuff…well kinda."

"Max," Dean growled, behind an apologetic smile at his little friend. "get out of here."

"Alright! You crazy kids be safe." I said a bit too loudly for my sensitive ears.

"Thanks monkee." Dean put in before locking me out of my own room.

I entered the room my brothers were supposed to share. Sam was still up on his laptop, typing like mad. He smiled quickly when he saw me.

"You writing a book or something?"

"Oh no," He murmured closing his computer and standing expectantly.

"Uh huh. Well, Dean's going at it with some broad, I am terribly drunk and I'm—" Sam caught me before I fell.

"You're were about to fall." I leaned my head on his shoulder while he walked me to bed. "You good?"

"Better than ever, Smokey."

"I've missed you, Max."

"I've missed you too." I yawned into the covers. Sam wished me good night and kissed my hair. That was great thing about Sam, he was the sensitive one. He was the little one but he was filled with kindness. When I closed my eyes to dream I would only see Dean, Sam and I alone in that stupid motel room waiting for our dad to come back. That was the day I saw Dean cry for the first time.


	3. White Flag

*1990*

"Dean?" I called out, tucking Sam into bed. I checked the salt under the doors and on the window sills before pocketing my knife and knocking on the bathroom door. Dad had been gone for a couple of hours now, leaving Sam, Dean and I alone, again, in some cheap room that smelt nothing like Kansas…nothing like home. Sam was acting up nowadays, refusing to take dad's absence in stride. Dad got mad because Sammy started rebelling and Dean couldn't handle seeing our dad upset or Sam in tears. I was the last Winchester girl left and I had to keep the peace. "Dean?" I pounded at the door. "Dean, don't make me pick the lock." The door opened slowly and my older brother peered out.

"What is it?" His voice was dry and cracked and his eyes were red.

"Let me inside, would ya?" He nodded. I slid inside and sat at the edge of the bathtub. "What's wrong, Dee? Come on, I'm your sister. You don't trust me here and now how am I gonna trust you out on the field, huh?" He didn't look at me. "Dad'll get over it, and Sam will too." I put my hand on his arm but he pulled away. "This won't get any better, dude. Stop blaming yourself."

"How can I not blame myself, Max? I have to keep us together!"

"No, no, no. Dad is supposed to keep us together. Oh, Dean, stop carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders." His head snapped up, tears—real tears—streaming down his face.

"I have to keep our family together. Dad told me to take care of Sammy and I will…even if it kills me. And I'm your big brother, monkee, I would burn in hell's fire to keep you and Sammy safe."

"That's an awfully big promise, Dee."

"I don't give a rat's ass. It's true!"

"Okay, Dee."

* * *

*present*

I groaned remembering this. Sam looked up from his computer. I buried my face in the covers, hating my father and hating the damn sunlight. John Winchester was never a dad to us, he was just a father. He loved us and we adored him but…as I recalled that conversation with Dean I realized that we could never be normal people with boring lives. We were born to hunt and be hunted. We were destined to linger in the darkness of this world, trying to find solace in sex and alcohol. We lived everyday by trying to compensate this hell with a life we knew we could pull off. A life we could pass through at the closest bar or strip club. I sat up abruptly, blinking to get used to the sun. I took a deep breath and started to relax.

"Do you know how to dance, Max?"

"A bit, I guess. Why?"

"Can you teach me?"

"Is this a joke Sam?"

"No," I stood slowly wiping the sleep out of my eyes.

"Alright."

"So, where do I put this hand?" Sam asked, waving his left hand in my face.

"You put your left hand on my waist and hold my left hand with your right." I put my small hand in his, my other hand on his upper arm. "Raise your elbow. Sehr gut. You step forward with your right foot, yeah?"

"What about you?"

"I'm gonna follow you."

"Forward or backwards?"

"You take a step forward with your right foot. I take a step back with my left. Got it, Smokey?"

"Got—Got it." He gave me that bitch face of his. We managed to get the box step that morning. For such a large moose, Sam was pretty good on his feet.

"Guten morgen mi familie." Dean burst in all smiles, his hair still wet from his shower. "What're you circus animals up to?"

"Max was teaching me how to do the box step."

"Why?" Dean scrunched his face up in disgust.

"You took too long, Barbra."

"Hey, Barbra Streisand is wonderful."

"You're wonderful!" I spit back.

"What's that?" Sam pointed to my arm. "Is that a light saber and Aragorn's sword?" Dean raised my sleeve a bit so he could ogle at my tattoo.

"Have I ever told you how much I loved you?" I smiled at my big brother. Sammy was always the sane one. Suddenly, Dean stood up straight, his hand going for his gun. He walked over to the bathroom slowly. He slammed the door open and paused.

"What the hell? Cas?" A man in a trench coat walked out of the bathroom, his dark hair slightly disheveled.

"Castiel!" Sam exclaimed. As for me, I didn't know what the hell was going on.

"Dean, Sam…hello." When I blinked he was right in front of me. "Hello, Maxine Winchester."

"Whoa, Cas," Dean pushed him back a few steps back. "personal space is a requirement with this one."

"I'm sorry, but who are you?" I snapped, never liking being stuck in the dark.

"I am Castiel."

"Yeah, I got that part."

"I am an angel of the Lord."

"Right," I chuckled. "and I'm the queen of Naboo."

"I hope not! She was hot!" Dean said to himself, eyes wide.

"Uh, Max," Sam came forward. "Cas really is an angel."

"I raised your brother from perdition."

"Congratulations. How'd you do that, blue eyes?"

"Oh, it was quite easy. I simply—"

"That's good, Cas!" Dean put in standing between me and the angel. "What's going on? You know what, don't answer that."

"As you wish. Your sister shares many of your own facial features, Dean.

"I'm glad you're in love with my brother, damn, I could even say it's good for him, but I would really like to know what the hell's going on, yeah?" Dean groaned uneasily before saying,

"Max this is Cas. Cas this is Max. There, you're all caught up." I turned to Sam for help but he was off in the open space, dancing the box step by himself.

"You should see Bobby," I heard Castiel whisper. "Lilith…Lucifer…Ruby…66 Seals…" It was then that I came to realize that my brothers, my wonderful, foolhardy brothers, had not been idle in the years since I was absent. I wanted so bad to be caught up with whatever happened but I knew Dean wouldn't tell me. And I loved him for it. He wanted to protect me.


	4. Love is Strange

"Bobby Singer!" I called, stepping out of my 1968 Dodge Charger. Sam and Dean were standing on the porch with the man who was like our second father.

"I'll be damned! Maxine, you idjit!" Bobby wrapped his arms tightly around me, lifting me inches off the ground. "Where the hell have you been, girl?" I shrugged, grinning.

"Oh, on a hippie trail head full of zombies."

"Zombies, huh?" I laughed goodheartedly, kissing his cheek.

"It's a song Bobby."

"You've still got you kid sister listening to Men at Work?" Bobby chided my big brother.

"Oh come now, Bobby," I started as sweet as I could. "You really expect me to listen to that Metallica nonsense?"

"What's wrong with Metallica?" Dean cried, his arms lifted out to his side.

"Oh, don't be such a prima donna. Queen beats Metallica's ass by a light-year."

"Oh, you're siding with Freddie on this one? What about Lars?"

"Lars can take his damn drum sticks and shove it up his ass for all I care!"

"I can't—I can't…this is all too much." He stormed into the house. A minute late Dean poked his head out. "You wanna beer?"

"Yes, please." I replied, holding Bobby's arm and stepping through the back door and into the kitchen.

"You still like Bon Jovi though, right?" Sam asked, closing the door.

"She better like Bon Jovi or I just might shoot that bitch." Dean popped open a beer and handed it to me.

"Let's just say I'm wanted: dead or alive."

"Monkee!" Dean laughed, embracing me proudly. I had successfully redeemed myself.

"You know, Dean's wanted: dead or alive in thirty four states." Bobby piped up.

"I'm a beast in the other thirty four."

"What?"

"Twenty four…twenty two…"

"Sixteen, Dean. You're an animal in the other _sixteen _states." I corrected.

"Sixteen, right. I just had a brain fart."

"You look just like your mother." Bobby said suddenly, staring intently at me.

"Cas said she looked like Dean."

"That's 'cause Cas is in love with him." Bobby snorted.

"That's what I said!" I laughed, sipping at my beer slowly.

"Cas is not in love with me."

"Right, and I'm not in love with Legolas."

"You're in love with Legolas?" Sam asked, sitting down at the small table, his eyebrows furrowed incredulously.

"Elf no!"

"Hello Winchesters." I nearly jumped onto the counters. Castiel stood behind me. "Hello Bobby Singer."

"I think he came out of Max's ass this time." Sammy pointed out, chuckling to himself. Dean helped me off the counter and to my feet.

"What is he talking about—what are you talking about?" I snapped, coming closer to my older brother.

"Dean, Lilith—"

"Not right now Cas!" Bobby, Sam, and Cas shared a questioning glance. I stood awkwardly through the long silence, fiddling with the bowie knife from my back pocket. I rubbed my thumb lightly against the blade, loving the way the cold metal felt against my rough skin. I began for the door when Bobby spoke.

"Where the hell are you going?"

"I'm just gonna check the oil on the Charger." Dean scoffed and started to follow. "I'm a big girl Dean."

"Not from where I'm standing." He rolled his sleeves up instinctively.

As my brother and I walked out to my car, Bobby and Sam were talking to Castiel. I wanted to ask Dean what was going on but thought better of it. I opened the hood before standing next to him as he leaned over the engine.

"Why dad let you get this piece of shit is beyond me."

"Stop bitching, I could have checked out the kinks myself." Dean stood up straight.

"Kinks? What kinks?"

"You know, break lines been acting up. I took a look at it and replaced the rubber line; you know the one that goes from the frame to the rear axle—"

"To the splitter on the axle," He finished. "yeah, I know. I taught you that." I pursed my lips, knowing he was right but hating him childishly for not letting me revel in my glory.

"You gonna make sure I did it right?"

"Did you not do it right?" Dean asked with an askew smile. I rolled my eyes and pushed him away from the car while closing the hood. "Damn, you're so touchy." He playfully punched me and, in return, I socked him in the abdomen. "I taught you that too." Dean coughed through his pain, clutching his torso and walking by me back to the house. Castiel had disappeared and Sam had a worried look on his face when we entered into the kitchen.

I bit my lip and walked down to the cluttered basement. Bobby was rumbling around with wooden stakes and old shingles that had fallen off the roof. I went around to the back of the stairs and nearly made Bobby jump out of his skin.

"You trying to give me a heart attack, girl?" He breathed out heavily.

"I wouldn't dream of it, Bobby." I laughed taking the metal rod from his hand and twirling it about in between my fingers. "What's up with Dean and Sam?" Bobby scoffed, snatching the rod from me and starting over to another corner of the room.

"Nothing you should worry about, Max."

"Nothing I should worry about? You gotta be kidding, Bobby. Come on."

"What your brothers do isn't anything you should be worrying about. They can take care of themselves." I groaned, leaning my forehead against his shoulder.

"Bobby…Bobby…Bobby…Bobby…Bob—"

"Oh, shud up, ya idjit!" He whacked me with the rod. I squirmed in pain, trying to laugh it off.

"Come at me!" I declared, grabbing another stick and batting away Bobby's stroke with a parry. "Damn Bobby that hurt like a mother!"

"Back off, pumpkin, I'm telling ya. I'll whoop your ass." I sighed and put my hands up in defeat. He really knew how to change the subject.

"Well, dip me in axle grease and call me slick! Was that a threat?" I exclaimed, smiling at his irritated look.

"Get outta here before I whack you again." Bobby raised the rod aiming for my arm.

"So, what's going on?" I leaned against the work desk on my elbow. Bobby rolled his eyes and returned to what he was doing. "I'm gonna find out eventually."

"Well, when you do, you'll know." I accepted the fact that I was not going to get any information out of him and watched as he cleaned out his arsenal of rifles. He looked different. He looked older and more troubled. I guessed he missed Karen, that's why he got drunk and grumpy most of the time. We never talked about Karen, I barely remembered her anyway but we all knew what happened. I guess Bobby never forgave himself for it. God knows I would feel the same way.


	5. Smells Like Teen Spirit

Dean's POV

"Clean this for me, would ya?" I handed Max my treasured M1911 Colt. Dad had given it to me from his time in the Marine Corp. My sister twisted the corner of her mouth to the side in a contemplative way and started field stripping the beautiful pistol, singing harshly to herself as she did so. That was not a good sign.

"'My heart it like an open highway. Like Frankie said, 'I did it my way.' I just want to live while I'm alive.' No shit, Bon Jovi. You wanna live while you're alive. That is so original." She muttered, running the brush in and out of the barrel. I smiled.

Max has always been a bit of a weirdo. And I say that in the best way possible. She just has a short temper and it's extremely easy to get her pissed off. Back when we were kids she would always have this journal or something that she would write in. She was so good at writing poems and shit. I remember that she would read them out to me. They were all depressing though. I guess it was her way of staying sane. She didn't look sane now and I decided to approach it in the most cautious way I knew how. I mean, when Max Winchester starts talking to Bon Jovi when it's just you and her in the room you know that she is just as dangerous as a hell hound. Lucky for me, I knew that feeling of being clawed alive by one of those invisible bastards.

"Hey," I said quietly, not wanting to snap her out of her looney toons too quickly. "Max, you alright?" I waved my hand in front of her face. Damn, she put that pistol together so fast.

"What?" Max glared at me, fiercely pulling the slide back till a click was heard. I gotta admit. It was intimidating.

"You put that together pretty fast," I stammered. "good job." She just stared at me plainly before taking my beer, sloshing it around in the bottle a bit and taking a swig. She did it for good luck. I never understood that.

Another thing about Max was that she was selfish but at the same time so selfless. Whenever Sammy or I was sick and dad was gone she would stay up with us the whole night, making sure we were comfortable and all. She never let us take care of her though. I guess she thought it was belittling. I loved my sister. Damn, she could read me like a book. So, when she disappeared a few weeks after Sam had gone to Stanford I flipped out.

"Where's Max? Dad, we gotta find her."

"If she wanted to go, let her go." And to think that my father knew where she was the whole time and never told me. That sick bastard.

"You didn't even ask her where she's going." My dad grabbed a handful of my shirt and snarled into my face.

"You want to go too, Dean? Huh?"

"No, sir." His breath reeked of alcohol and I nearly died holding my breath.

I shook my head, reminding myself that I was safe with Sam and Max and Bobby. She was staring at me now, looking intently at me sitting across from her. She knew I was thinking about dad. It was funny, whatever dad did or said to her, she didn't care. She told me it made her a better person. I respected her even more for that. Dad was a hard ass on all of us but she never held it against him.

"You lose the love of your life to some cock sucking demon and trying raising three kids by yourself, Dean." Eh, she had a point.

"Do you still write in those fancy pansy journals?" I asked. Her head snapped up and where I expected to see profuse irritation I saw a small smile.

"Yeah, I try as often as I can."

"Remember you used to read all that sappy crap to me when we were younger?" Max laughed and nodded. It was easy to think she felt better but I knew she was still in pain deep down. "Can you read some of that to me now?"

"Are you serious?" She asked incredulously. I nodded. "Uhm, okay. Lemme go get it." She came back with a hard-covered journal with Batman and Robin on the front cover.

"I approve."

"I knew you would, Dean-o." Then she started to read.

"_When all was lost, _

_And the sword of my enemy _

_Was pressed against my heart, _

_You were there. _

_When all the good in this world _

_Was sinking into the horizon_

_You were there. _

_When the time for me to decide_

_Was closer than our hearts_

_You were there._

_Your solemn disposition was the only thing_

_That let me face another day._

_I never told you before_

_But you were the one who picked me up._

_I never told you before_

_But every time I look at you I want to smile. _

_Though our time to quarrel_

_Has come and gone_

_I will remember you_

_When the sword strikes my heart."_

"Still writing sap I see." I murmured, putting the beer bottle to my lips and taking a satisfying drink.

"What'd you think?"

"Eh, still too sappy."

"It's about you, Dean." I looked up, taken aback by my sister's sad smile. "You know sometimes on the road I think of you guys. And then I realize that I might not ever see you again. I just get so angry and irritated…hating everything we stand for—everything that tore us apart. Dad, the yellow-eyed demon, Stanford…" Her voice trailed off bitterly. "Then, after I'm done hating the world, I just wallow in all this damn self-pity. I mean, I never even said goodbye to you when I left." I grit my teeth, trying not to cry. Her words were so honest and filled with so much care and love and loyalty. And I think I almost saw a tear roll down her cheek but she brushed it away when Bobby and Sam came in from the garage.

"Damn accelerator's jammed." Bobby groaned, throwing down a grease stained cloth. There was a dinging from the kitchen.

"That's my pie." Max stood.

"You wonderful bitch! You made pie?" I grinned like a Cheshire cat. Max frowned, she hated it when I called her a bitch in front of others even if it was Sam and Bobby.

"It's chicken pot pie for dinner. I made it from scratch."

"Who knew Max would be the domestic type." Sam chuckled.

"Who knew Sam Winchester cries his way through sex." I laughed and fist bumped my sister. Sam had his girly bitch face on. "Anyone want dinner? I made apple pie too." I wrapped both my arms around Max, squeezing her tightly.

The chicken pot pie was good but the apple pie was great. Really, who knew Miss Hard-Ass cooked so well?


	6. Nothing Else Matters

Max's POV

I sat up that night listening to Aerosmith. I huddled on the couch, clutching the old pillow to my torso, humming along to _I Don't Want to Miss a Thing_. It was quite cheesy but I was a sucker for cheesy. And Steve Tyler's voice was somewhat soothing (I can't say the same about his face. Ha-ha). Bobby's heavy footsteps brought me out of my empty contemplation. He sat beside me, groaning as he did so.

"You're not getting old Bobby." I replied, reading his mind.

"The hell I'm not." He looked over, smiling a bit.

"Thanks for taking care of Dean and Sam." I leaned against his shoulder, feeling safe near him.

"Ah, shit. I promised your dad that I would take care of you idjits."

"I bet they annoyed the hell out of you."

"Not as much as you when you were younger, pumpkin. You were running into walls, jumping out of windows, eating that god-awful cake right in the oven." I laughed.

"Oh, those were the days, Bobby."

"You were one hell of a baby. Your dad was always so proud of you."

"What was there to be proud of?" I looked up to his face skeptically. "I left."

"You joined the Marines…just like him." Bobby rubbed my shoulder comfortingly as he remembered his old friend.

"Yeah, but Dean stuck with that stubborn son of a bitch. All dad ever did was make him grow up too fast. 'Take care of Max and Sammy, Dean. Take care of 'em.'" I impersonated my dad's gruff voice, filled with loathing.

"Dean's a big, tough man 'cause of it."

"He's hurting inside, Bobby. He's trying hard to keep it in, but I know him better. He can't hide it from me."

"What," Bobby Singer shrugged. "so John gave him hell. That boy went to hell." I snapped up.

"What?"

"He didn't tell you?" I shook my head, anger and frustration slowly rising and forming into a lump in my throat.

"What happened? And don't you dare lie to me Bobby Singer!" He sighed, waving his hand about looking for a way to explain.

"Sam was about to die so Dean went to the crossroads demon. He had one year. That's how that angel came about." I remembered Castiel telling me how he raised Dean from perdition. Everything started coming together.

"I'm going to kill him." I said into my hands. "Why does he have to do half-assed shit like that?"

"Because he loves you and Sam."

"Well, we love him too, Bobby! I love that goddamn, son of a bitch so damn much!" I threw the pillow across the room and into the hall. I looked up and harshly rubbed away a tear, making eyelashes come off on my sleeve. "I love you like a father Bobby…just know that."

"And I love you like my daughter Max." I stood, pulled on my jacket and took out my keys.

"Tell Dean and Sam I love 'em and to keep their asses out of trouble."

"Where are you going?"

"You know me," I smiled reassuring. "I'll be out and about."

"Now, don't do anything stupid."

"I won't, Bobby, I promise." He nodded and hugged me goodbye.

I walked out into the darkness, hating the fact that I was simply turning my back on my brothers and Bobby. I wanted to go back and kiss Sam on his forehead and tell him to have sweet dreams…like I did when he was younger. I looked up to see a dark figure leaning against the hood of the Charger.

"I've never liked this car." Dean said, patting the sleek paint work. He turned towards me, his eyes filled with years of unshed tears. "I heard what you and Bobby were talking about and I am so sorry I didn't tell you."

"You're such an idiot." I sobbed. He came forward and held me in his protective arms, his chin resting on my hair. I punched his chest softly in my sorrow. "You're such a wonderful idiot, Dean."

"I told you I'd burn in hell's fire to keep you and Sam safe. Remember?" I hugged him tighter. "I love you monkee."

"And I love you Dee." I wiped my tears and forced myself out of his embrace. "Take care of Sammy." I reminded, opening the divers door with a sad smile. "And don't go to hell without me next time, yeah?"

"I don't need to go to hell to be in hell with you Max." He smiled as I started the engine. _Nothing Else Matters _played from the speakers. Dean peered in from the window opposite me.

"I thought you didn't like Metallica."

"I don't. It reminds me of you and Sam and that's enough for me…take care of yourself, Dean." With that I backed out of Singer Salvage Yard and headed for the highway, Metallica on full blast.


	7. Words

*November 2, 1983*

The two oldest Winchester's, just four and two, sat on the floor of their newborn brother's nursery. Their mother sat on the rocking chair, singing little Sammy to sleep. Her voice spread warmth and security to Dean, who absently fiddled with his superhero action figures. His little sister, Maxine, watched him with earnest eyes…soaking in his every facial expression, hand gesture, and sound effect.

"Dee?" She squealed, smiling wide enough to show her sharp teeth. "Dee! Dee!" She hit her brother's side with her little hands.

"Maxie, don't hit your brother." Mary Winchester corrected in a soothing manner. "Say sorry."

"I'm sowi Dee."

"Now, Dean, what do you say?"

"Is okay, Tiny." Dean replied, handing his precious Tiny his Robin action figure while keeping Batman for himself.

"I'm so proud of my angels." Mary smiled, kissing Sammy's nose gently. The way any mother would. There was a hollow sound emanating from the foyer and two heavy footsteps on the rug. Dean bound to his feet and sprinted into his father's arms.

"Hey, Dean-o!" John raised his son in the air and ran about making airplane noises. In her hurry, Maxine tumbled down the flight of stairs, sliding at her dad's feet.

"Oompf," She coughed, looking up at her father's handsome face, waiting for someone to fuss over her.

"Is she alright?" Mary asked, calmly coming down to the foyer. Sam was awake now, his forest green eyes adjusting to the ruckus taking place. John picked up his daughter in his other arm, kissing her soft cheek.

"Owie," Maxine cooed, rubbing her face then her dad's prickly stubble.

"Sorry baby." John grinned, setting the two children on their feet and leaning over to kiss his wife and his youngest son. Life was ideal for the Winchester's this evening. Well, that is until the sun had set and a man with yellow eyes came into the six month old baby's nursery. That's when life started for us really.

* * *

*present-2010*

It's a hard luck story, I know. Mom died twenty seven years ago. I glanced up at the rear view mirror and realized what color my eyes were. They were like a bluish-green. Not the hazel green like Dean's or the dark, forest green like Sam's. Nope, I had my mom's eyes. I groaned. I hated feeling so vulnerable…so emotional. I glanced back the road. I had half an hour before I reached a little city near Dallas, Texas. My stomach started to grumble and I realized that I hadn't eaten for a whole day.

"Caviar and cigarettes well versed in etiquette, extraordinarily nice. She's a Killer Quee-een: gunpowder, guillotine, dynamite with a laser beam, guaranteed to blow your mind, anytime." It was my adrenaline acting up. I swear, I looked like a crazy person when I finally pulled up at a local hotel at midnight.

I got a room with a double bed, in case I decided to get freaky in loneliness. I laughed to myself at the thought. Imagine me, going all Dean Winchester on some guy's ass. Okay, that sounded so much better in the darkness of my mind. I hauled in my rucksack and sat on the edge of the bed, staring into the off white wall. I missed Bobby. I missed Dean and Sam. I hadn't seen them in nearly year. There was a sudden knock on the motel door that had me reaching for my side arm with a start. I opened the door slowly and there was Dean, his eyes filled with sadness. I tried to smile but his face was so distressed.

"Where's Sam?" I asked, looking behind his shoulder to see if our little brother was just lagging.

"He's gone." Dean croaked, coming in for an embrace.

"I'm here, Dean. I'm here." I felt my brother's cold tears drip on the nape of my neck. I tried to make him relax but he wouldn't budge. I finally got him to pass out on the bed while I crashed on the floor. "All my bags are packed I'm ready to go. I'm standin' here outside your door. I hate to wake you up to say goodbye. But the dawn is breakin' it is early morn, the taxi's waitin' he's blowin' his horn. Already I'm so lonesome I could die. So kiss me and smile for me. Tell me that you'll wait for me. Hold me like you'll never let me go. 'Cause I'm leavin' on a jet plane don't know when I'll be back again. Oh babe, I hate to go." Dean rustled in the bed, still mumbling Sam's name.

I woke up at zero-six hundred. Dean was fast asleep; his face was still glossy from his tears. After my six mile run I returned to the dim room. Dean was sitting up on the bed, sipping on a beer. I hoped I wasn't too stinky because I sat beside him.

"Did you sleep well?" He nodded, putting his hand over mine. He smelled clean and his hair had beads of water dripping on his gray t-shirt. "What happened to Sam?"

"He stopped the apocalypse. He's probably chatting it up with Lucifer and Michael in the damn hole…" He groaned, putting his hand over his eyes. "I've gotta go."

"You're leaving me?"

"You left me…twice." I hoped I didn't hear that correctly. I went swollen with guilt. "You really think I'm gonna stick around?"

"Dean, I left because you had Sam…"

"Well, Sam's not here now anymore, is he?" His voice was loud and angry and it scared me.

"So, what, are you going back to Cassie?"

"No…Sam told me to go to Lisa." I remembered Lisa Braeden. Damn, she was a bitch. "I'm gonna go to her and her kid." I chuckled skeptically, praying to myself that he was just pulling my leg.

"You're choosing that whore over your own sister…again?" Dean stood; the fury in his eyes reflected that of his soul.

"You left, Max! You left me with dad. I am not obligated to you."

"Yeah? Well, whether you like it or not Dean Winchester, I'm obligated to you! You poor, stupid, son of a bitch…" We both stood glaring at each other, thinking of ways to eliminate the other person. "Fine," I shoved his duffle bag against his chest. "get the hell outta here, Dean. Just leave your family, just like dad did." I gathered my clothes and stormed into the bathroom. I cried as I closed the door. I had to do something. I didn't want it to end this way. I was the last Winchester girl, remember? I flung the door open and ran into my brother's arms and I refused to let him go. I didn't mean to be so cruel to him; I just loved him so damn much.

"You smell nice." Dean muttered and kissed my cheek.

"I'll always be here for you, Dee." I looked into his eyes. "Go to Lisa…go get what you deserve. And don't screw up," He smiled. "'cause it's my responsibility to kick you in the ass if you do." I stroked his cheek bone with my thumb, trying to remember everything. "I'm…gonna go take a shower… do me a favor and don't be here when I come out."

"I love you, Tiny." I bit the inside of my lip and nodded, those stupid tears cascading down my face as I started the shower. I needed a drink so damn bad.


	8. Spread a Little Love Today

"Well, if it isn't my favorite Winchester." Ellen smiled, leaning against the bar and gently patting my face. "How you doin' honey?"

"Just fine, Mrs. Harvelle." I lied, fiddling with my bowie knife. Ellen watched me; her eyes squinted as she tried detecting any sign of distress in my straight face.

"Well," She sighed, bringing up a pint of malt beer. "Ash'll be glad to see you."

"Hey Max!" Jo galloped next to her mother, the happiness in her face made me want to smile.

"Dean's doing just fine Jo." She blushed and slowly moved away to another customer.

"You see those brothers of yours since you got out from the military?" Ellen asked, still staring. I nodded, taking up the handle of the heavy glass.

"I've, uh, seen 'em around. Why?"

"I just expected you Winchester's to stay together thinking about what happened to your daddy…" She put her hot hand over mine. "I'm so sorry for what happened to him, Maxine." I shrugged, wanting so much to pull my hand away so my fingernails could breathe. Ellen sighed heavily again before excusing herself so go break up a fight.

Why the hell am I here? Am I trying to feel closer to my brothers, closer to the mother figure I saw in Ellen? To be honest, I'm the masochistic on between my siblings. I loved and hated the smell of gunpowder and cigarettes, the sound of the poker chips rattling, or the clinking of glasses, or the disgusting snap of some poor bastard breaking his fingers because he was bashing some other guys brains out through his ears. It was a familiar feeling which was surprisingly comforting. I was halfway through my beer when I felt a hand grab my butt. I rolled my eyes; it was Ash's trademark greeting which I had stopped opposing a long time ago.

"Doctor Badass," I nodded in welcome. Ash slid into the creaky stool beside me, his elbows resting on the worn wooden counters and his mullet flowing down his back like a glorious cascade of milk chocolate. Was that too much? "Still rockin' like a mustang I see."

"Only on the weekends." I chuckled and watched Jo going suave as hell on a hunter whose money she was about to win in Texas Hold 'Em."

"You know Max, maybe we could go to the back and—"

"No," I replied plainly, pushing away the empty mug and sitting up straight. "You ask me this every time."

"Yes, but I don't believe your brother's around."

"You're scared of Dean?" I asked skeptically, my eyebrows arched in surprise. Ash shrugged bashfully. "You're so cute, Ash."

"So, that's a yes?" I laughed.

"I'm not drunk enough yet, babe."

"I can fix that." He insisted grabbing the drink from the man on the other side of him and holding it out towards me. "This is a Bastard on a Beach: Suffering Bastard, Dying Bastard, Dead Bastard, Mai Tai and Gin Fizz all mixed together _and_ it'll go down smooth so it's gonna make you a sexual tyrannosaurus." I gave him a look.

"Dean's behind you." Ash jumped up to look behind him. Dean, of course, wasn't there but it was funny to imagine that Ash was scared of my big stuffed animal.

"Don't do that." He gave me a quick shove. "I nearly had a heart attack." I seemed to be doing that to people often these days.

"You would have been dead if it really was him," Jo smile, taking my mug. "Everyone knows Dean Winchester's the roughest, toughest meanest, son of a bitch hunter on the face of the earth."

"I could take him." I joked, sipping on another round of beer. Deep down I was serious, but only Dean and I knew it.


	9. Blowing in the Wind

When we were younger, and up till this day, Dean was the only person who was allowed to punch me. When I would steal his Batman action figure—which is hidden in the glove compartment of the Impala—he would throw a punch. When he'd trip me or something I would sock him in the chest. It was the worst when we'd be trying to play an intelligent game of chess, I would take out his slutty queen and all hell would break loose. I'd have that bastard in a full nelson and in turn he would manage to pin one arm behind my back and make me beg for mercy. I never would, I'd just knee him in the balls and hope for the best.

So, back in some high school we were enrolled in near Baltimore I came out of third period German with a black eye. Dean, who was coincidentally in the class across from me, caught a look at my shiner and went all ape shit. He hounded me for two classes before I finally told him the name of some jock that didn't know his foot from his fist and accidentally punched me instead of his buddy who had slept with his girlfriend. Jocks…damn. Anyway, my brother walked straight up to the guy after school.

"Hey asshole, you punch my sister?" The jock smirked and eyed me leaning against the Impala, watching the whole ordeal.

"I would have punched that dick bag over there but she's got a better ass." All it took from Dean was one left jab and the jock was lying unconscious on the ground. I threw him the keys to the car as he walked to the driver's door and we got out of there looking suave as hell. Yeah, Dean was suspended but it was totally worth watching. I smiled and remembered why I loved Dean Winchester so much.

We were never much of a touchy feely type of family. It just never seemed right to be so emotional back then. Well, it didn't seem right to get all soft on Dad or Dean but Sam was a totally different story. I gave that poor kid hell!

"Would you quit touching my back?"

"Your back is so damn soft though, Sam." I replied, trying to not smile so wide. "It's like cupid's ass."

"Why? Why does everything you say wound so creepy, Max?" Dean asked standing up abruptly, a smile on his face when Sam couldn't stop laughing.

"I'm sowi, Sammy." I placed a bug kiss on my kid-brother's cheek. Sam squirmed and wiped his face off on my sweatshirt.

"Ew, gross!"

"'Ew, gross' my ass." I scooted closer to him.

"Got that right." Dean mumbled, flipping through a porno, his feet up on the table.

"That jock didn't seem to think so." I grinned wryly at Dean's furious expression.

"Thanks to you I got kicked out of school…again."

"Oh, cry me a river! You big baby…" My brother just rolled his eyes and went back to his magazine, nodding his head in approval every now and then. I put an arm across Sam's back and put my head on his shoulder, my weight making him fall halfway off the chair. Yeah, poor kid.

"You are the prettiest girl I know, Maxine. You are so special—" Dean glared at Dom Rightler, who had decided that he'd be a gentleman and walk me to my mean of transportation. He didn't expect—nor did I tell him—that I had a big brother. I smiled to myself at the awkward exchange.

"You must be Maxine's brother, it's nice to—"

"Get lost, kid."

"I'll see you tomorrow, Rightler."

"Have a great day Maxine." I waved him off before turning to Dean's incredulous gaze.

"He looks like a mouse."

"He's a nice guy Dean." I slid into shot gun, throwing my rucksack beside my foot and reaching into the glove compartment for the box of cassettes.

"Since when were you into nice guys?" Dean continued, quickly starting Aerosmith before I could find Queen—or worse, The Monkees.

"I'm not into him, you're obviously smarter than the av-er-age bear Yogi."

"'You're the prettiest girl I know, Maxine.'" He mocked Dom with a high voice. I smiled and replaced Aerosmith with the Stones. He pulled out of the school and onto the rural roads and towards Sam's middle school.

"I think you're just jealous, bro."

"Yup, that's gotta be it." He said sarcastically.

"I heard you bone'd Sara Gardin in the janitor's closet." I continued rummaging through the glove compartment, looking for Batman.

"Oh yeah," Dean chuckled, briefly glancing at me with a cheeky grin. "It was like a chemical reaction exploding in my—" I quickly turned up the Stones, hoping to drown out his crude remark. He turned it back down, still smiling.

"In my—" I put my hand between his face and mine.

"Shut up, shut up, shut up!"

"In my balls!" I groaned and threatened to shove his head so far up his ass that he wouldn't be able to tell the difference between shit and French fries. "Looking forward to it, sis." I ignored him as he started singing along with Mick Jagger. I mean who can't help singing alone with _Paint it, Black_? After that outburst, I took to reading 'Jacob Have I Loved' again. "How many times have you read that book anyway?" I turned to the front cover and counted up the tally marks in the corner.

"Twenty three times."

"Good God! You need a life, Max."

"Oh, so the guy who reads pornos and has sex with girls in a closet…not to mention a guy who goes around the country hunting down supernatural creatures is telling me to get a life?"

"You don't read pornos, stupid…and have some fun Max. You look like a freakin' librarian." I looked down at my dark turquois shirt that could be seen under my form fitting dark brown, slightly worn leather jacket, dusty blue jeans, combat boots…then I looked at Dean.

"I look exactly like you." Dean scoffed and parked in front of Ellicott Mills Middle School before turning to stare blankly at me.

"You want a boyfriend?"

"No—"

"Then tousle your hair up a bit," He put his hand up to my hair but I slapped him away in irritation.

"I don't need a boyfriend." I insisted.

"Oh, poor little Maxine." He stuck out his bottom lip, mocking sadness. "She doesn't need a bow-fwend!"

"Don't make me get out the 9mil." I warned, changing from the Stones to Talking Heads.

"If you really want a guy you gotta get sassy. Don't be so serious all the time. Start flirting."

"I don't know how flirt."

"If you want to get a guy to like you, you gotta smile. Relax. Compliment him about…I don't know, his body. And your hair: let it loose, monkee. A guy wants to know what your hair looks like in bed. He's gotta evaluate his fingers in your hair." I widened my eyes, waving my hands about to make it stop. "Tousle it up a bit and play with it."

"I don't need your guy advice Dean." He shrugged, knowing that I had paid attention to his every word. I tried it out on Dom Rightler and, damn, I had him little putty. By the time we left Maryland I was dubbed the Gold-digger with my little band of acquaintances. I didn't tell Dean through. No need to give him a reason to gloat.

* * *

**Tell me what you think!**


	10. Another One Bites the Dust

So, tell me now: what's the point of all this? What's the point of ruining my life to hunt after piss ass supernatural creatures? Sam had a goal…he had a meaning in life and we just had to ruin it. He was always so sure of himself. He was like a straight arrow. Funny, Dean and I were like that but we didn't have enough balls to stand against Dad. I was in Great Falls, Montana when Bobby finally called. I was reluctant to answer but I was just so damned depressed and I needed to hear a familiar voice.

"Hello?"

"Max…it's Sam." Bobby's voice was so soft but filled with so much concern.

"I'll be right over." I packed my shit up and drove as fast as I could to Sammy.


	11. Famous Last Words

I twisted the silver ring on my ring right finger in nervousness—it was a present from Sam on my sixteenth birthday. I never took it off. It had the engravings of the One Ring of Mordor on the outside and inside band which made it all the more special. Sam figured if ever I needed silver to Swayze some werewolf I could melt down the ring and shoot that mother. He always thought of everything. Over the years I never gave Sam enough credit. Deep down I blamed him for breaking up the family. He _was _the one who took off to Stanford first. Shut up Max! He's your brother and he needs your help.

Before I could even get halfway across the back porch Dean had already opened the door for me. I put an awkward hand on his shoulder and nodded reassuringly at him. I wasn't really sure what to do. I never liked the fact that he really did leave me for Lisa. I don't care what I said about him deserving to be happy…I wanted to be happy too and I wanted to be happy with my brothers…soulless or not.

"Where's Sam?" Dean motioned me down to the basement. Bobby and Castiel were standing at the opening of a panic room. Sam lay on the army cot in the middle. I nearly died at the sight of him. "What happened, Bobby?"

"He lost his—"

"I didn't ask you Dean." I said quietly before turning back to Bobby. "What happened Bobby?"

"Crowley brought Sam out of hell…but conveniently forgot his soul. Death retrieved his soul and now he's just unconscious. That basically summed it up." Then he murmured. "Idjit."I slowly walked inside of the cylindrical room, a devil's trap painted on the ground, and stood above Sam. Leaning over, I kissed his pain stricken face.

"Oh Sammy," I whispered under my breath, brushing his hair out of his face. "Anyone want lunch?" I asked suddenly, the cheerfulness in my voice surprising everyone, including me. "I'm gonna make something to eat." I slid past them and hurried up to the kitchen.

I absently rumbled about, meandering through the half empty cabinets and drawers to find what I needed. Bobby stumbled up, heading toward the fridge. I peered over his shoulder at all the alcohol lining the low, metal shelf.

"Ah, the only men I trust…Jack, Jim and Jose." Bobby scoffed at my bitter remark and overlooked my boys, heading straight for the Bacardi.

"Want some?" I shook my head. "Like my daddy always said, just 'cause it kills your liver don't mean it ain't medicine." I didn't reply, but reached past the lamb's blood and vampire innards to pull out the cheap spaghetti sauce.

"This is tomato sauce right?"

"No, it's bat shit, Max." Bobby snapped, handing a glass of rum to Dean. "Sam still asleep?"

"Yeah," My brother groaned, slowly sipping away at the amber liquid.

"He'll wake up," Bobby assured. I started boiling the sticks of spaghetti in one pot and the sauce in another.

"Yeah," Dean replied monotonously, staring out the window with empty eyes.

"Dean, he's been through how much? Somehow he always bounces back."

"He's never been through this. Is that a job?" He pointed to the photocopies of newspaper articles, rubbing his forehead.

"Might be."

"Can I help? Send me to the library or something." While waiting, I walked over to the bay window behind the couch and looked out over the graves of mauled vehicles, my arms tightly crossed around my chest. Then a familiar voice, one I thought I'd never hear again, said,

"Dean…"


	12. Look Out, Here Comes Tomorrow

"Sam?" Dean asked skeptically, afraid it was too good to be true. We all stood to see the littlest Winchester standing at the entrance to the living room, his face filled with surprise and fear. He walked forward and hugged Dean then turned to Bobby.

"Bobby? I saw you! I felt Lucifer snap your neck!"

"Well, Cas—" Bobby began.

"Cas is alive?!"

"Yeah," Dean came forward. "Cas-Cas is fine. Are you ok?"

"Actually," My little brother smiled at me. "I'm starving."

I had neatly laid out four plates filled with spaghetti, mashed potatoes, and green beans. I thought a red, white, and green meal was pretty ironic considering that the colors of the Italian flags were red, white, and green…and spaghetti originated from Italy. Pretty clever, huh? I sat across from Bobby while Sam and Dean hungrily ate away on either side of us.

"What is this slop?" Bobby complained, twisting the spaghetti through his fork.

"It's good for you that's what it is. Now, eat up before I shove it down your throat."

"Is it just me," Bobby said, mostly to himself but turning to my brothers. "Or is she getting prettier and bitchier as time goes by?"

"She's definitely getting bitchier." Dean said between chewing through his mashed potatoes. Sam emptied three bottles of beer quickly. I smiled.

"At least it doesn't affect her cooking." I swear, with that sweet remark from Sam, I knew he was back. But I couldn't help but notice that he had changed. I took my eyes off Sam and glanced at Bobby, who was still bitchin' about the food. Without a word I placed a full bottle of Old Rip Van Winkle, hoping it would shut him up. And by God, I've never seen a man shut his mouth so quickly.

"What've you guys been doing?" Sam asked, placing his fork on the middle of the empty plate with a satisfied hand to the gut.

"Oh, you know," I smiled sarcastically. "just sitting around playing Dungeons and Dragons, getting wasted every night due to self-loathing and regret because you left your brothers alone…oh, and going a hundred miles an hour to find out that your little brother was in hell and currently didn't have a soul. So, _Sam_, we've been doing a hell of a lot." I took his empty plate and put it in the sink, it took me a while to relax and contain my bitter sarcasm. When I turned to go back to the table, Sam wrapped his moose arms around my shoulders and hugged me tightly.

"I've missed you too, Max."

"Don't you ever scare me like that again, you jackass."

"I like bitchy Max," Dean snickered.

"You're next, chuckles." I held Sam's face in between my hands and placed a kiss on his cheek, despite his squirming, and then stood in front of Dean. "What the hell were you thinking?" He sat up straight, both wrists resting on the edge of the table…he knew he was in deep shit.

"I obviously wasn't, Master Chief."

"Wasn't what, Dean?"

"Thinking, Master Chief."

"That's right," I slapped him upside the head. "Next time, think with your head and not with your balls, you dumbass!"

"I would punch you right now," Dean threatened. "but I know you will shoot me."

"Now you're using your head." I smirked and took his empty plate.

"This is the most fun I've had in months." Bobby grumbled, pouring himself another glass of whiskey. I took a deep breath and looked at my family. We were a broken, messed up family, but a family nonetheless. We were happy right? That's what a family's gotta be…is happy. It was Sam, Dean, Bobby and I all in one room for the first time in nearly three years.

* * *

**I tried lightening the mood up a bit considering Sammy's situation...please tell me what you think! I'm open for any critiques or any anything! Come on people talk to me! :) Anywho, hope you like it! **


	13. Stonehenge

I sat at the edge of the grave, watching Dean huffing and puffing as he brought up shovelfuls of dirt, sweat staining his shirt.

"Muriel Stonewall 1903 to 1954. She lost both of her babies in the second great war…Gravedigger," I sang quietly, leaning against the gravestone. "When you dig my grave could you make it shallow so that I can feel the rain? Gravedigger…" I allowed my voice to trail off eerily.

"Thanks for lightening the mood, Max." Dean scoffed, handing me the shovel and climbing out of the ditch.

"So, you're telling me that you don't sing while you dig graves?"

"The fact that you're even asking me that question is creepy all in itself." I hauled out dirt, trying to get the grave as rectangular as I possibly could. "How does that song start?"

"Cyrus Jones…" I began for him, ferociously shoving the spade into the soft earth.

"Right, Cyrus Jones, 1810 to 1913, made his great grandchildren believe you could live to a 103. A hundred and three is forever when you're just a little kid. So, Cyrus Jones lived forever. Gravedigger, when you dig my grave could you make it shallow so that I can feel the rain?" My shovel struck the coffin. I broke through the wood with all my might before climbing up next to Dean. He salted the bones while I drenched it with gasoline. Just as I had replaced the cap onto the gas can the air went cold.

"Dean," I pointed to a disfigured woman limping toward us, her head rotating demonically.

"Where the hell is Sammy?" Dean struggled with his lighter. I fished out my gun, but before I could properly cock the load the garlic smothered, holy water bullets the woman, Doris Long to be exact, was already clawing away at my torso, just like she did with her other half dozen female victims. The pain was unbearable. If her bloody claws went deeper into my stomach I was a goner. I could feel her fingers twisting and pulling at my skin. I screamed in protest, shouting out to Dean who was frantically trying to get a flame going. I groped for my gun which had fallen on the ground. Suddenly, she went up in flames, just like her bones. I fell to the ground, clutching my stomach, trying to tell myself that pain was all in the mind. But no matter how hard I tried, the pain wouldn't hurt any less. Dean ran to me, panic in his face, while lifting my tattered shirt. He looked at me and my heart sank.


	14. Somebody To Love

**A big, big thank you to all my readers! Without you guys I wouldn't have gotten this far :)** **Hope you like the chapter!**

* * *

*Three Days Earlier*

I sat in the back seat of the Impala, miserable. God knows how much ass Dean had back here…it was icky just to think about. Sam was fast asleep and my older brother would often glance at me through the rear view mirror. I fiddled with the laces on my boots, finding the South Dakota country side vast and repetitive but beautiful nonetheless. Leaning my head back on the leather seats, I ran my fingers over the carvings on the armrest.

"Wish I could have taken the Charger." I murmured, remembering the day Dean and Sam and I had used a jack knife to engrave our initials into the Impala. Dad had been plenty mad. I figured that was the reason he gave the car to Dean. I stretched out my leg over the car seat, not wanting the long drove to Roswell to ruin my already bad knees (I had knees like an old woman).

"We both know that car wouldn't have even got us to the border of the state." Dean smirked. I shrugged his hurtful comment off and leaned forward beside his shoulder to avoid car sickness. "Are you even wearing a seatbelt?"

"Are you?"

"Good point…bitch." I smiled briefly before staring at the empty road ahead, the dips and curves that rose and fell with the lush green landscape. "You know, uh, Lisa didn't work out."

"I can only assume so."

"Why did you hate her so much?"

"I don't know," I admitted. "Let's just say chicks have a sixth sense about other chicks."

"You're not a chick."

"You know what I mean, smartass." Dean chuckled. "She was terribly irksome…bit too needy for my taste."

"Oh yeah, what type of women do you not find irksome? Women who're like you?"

"Pshh, no. Not the girls you go for anyway. I prefer Sam's one-night stands…at least they have a lick of sense."

"You know he went at it with a demon once."

"No surprise there…whoa, I think I just got a mental picture. Damn!"

"What about you? You still dating that Sullivan kid?" My heart dropped at the thought of my ex-boyfriend. "What was his name? Max, right?" Yup, we had the same name…funny, I thought, frowning. Max had been Dean-approved which was a pretty big deal. The thing about Max Sullivan was that he was just as protective of me as my family was. And thankfully Dean had witnessed it.

It was my senior year in high school and I was hanging out with all these video game and anime junkies. I was walking out with Max and two of his other friends. Dean, of course, looked menacing as ever, leaning against the Impala in his leather jacket and pursed lips. Anyway, Max was singing some song that I had actually heard before. They would always sing some weird shit and I would just stand there lost as ever. But this time he was singing _Stairway to Heaven_ (very off-key, might I add) so I look over and I'm like,

"Hey, I know that song." I was so proud to have known Led Zeppelin, convinently forgetting that I had Dean to thank. So, after I had said this, this other guy, I don't even remember his name, looked over and shouted,

"Nobody cares!" I didn't say anything, because it wouldn't have mattered. I didn't like causing a ruckus. Dean had heard this and his eyes widened with anger. Max, being the darling he was, stood up for me.

"Don't talk to her like that, bitch!" He shoved that guy two feet backwards before turning around and looking at me, waiting for my smile of approval…which I gave him. Yeah, well, Max and I started going out even after we had left Woodville, Maine.

"What happened to him?" Dean asked, bringing me back to the present world. My heart ached to remember what I had done.

"Just think Bobby and Karen." I whispered, trying to hide my tears. I loved Max Sullivan, I truly did. But those damn demons never knew when to quit torturing you or the ones you loved.

"I am so sorry Max." I shook my head, shrugging to console myself.

"After I had exorcised the demon that had possessed him I realized just how broken his body was." I blinked away uprising tears. "Anyway," I sat back against the seat and looked out into the light blue skies, my stomach hurting at the remembrance. "Life's a bitch, Dean-o."

"You can say that again."

"So, tell me the job again?"

"A woman was found dead in a graveyard by the gardener. Her stomach was ripped apart and she was hung on a tree nearby."

"That could be a whole lot of things you know, Dean."

"No, but get this: the woman had died of cancer the week before. Her body was stolen from the morgue and was shanked and dumped where the PoPo found her."

"Wonderful. Wait…you think we're dealing with—"

"I doubt it."

"Come on, Dean. The death points to it."

"We killed that bitch."

"Doesn't mean there aren't others out there." Dean pursed his lips.

"Yeah...whatever."

* * *

*many years back*

"It's called an Aswang," Dad had explained, handing Dean the manila folder filled with newspaper clippings and articles from years ago.

"It's an ass-wang?" I asked skeptically, looking over Dean's shoulder as he went through the collected research. Once I realized just how crude my question was, Dean and I died laughing. Dad glared at us in frustration, shaking his head.

"Get yourself together you two. You're going to kill the creature, you hear me?"

"Where're you going Daddy?" I asked sweetly.

"Did you hear me, Maxine?"

"Yes, sir," I barked, snapping to attention. "I heard you loud and clear, sir." My dad smiled softly but he didn't answer my question. He never had ever since Sam had gone.


	15. Ghost in the Machine

"Hey, you think we'll see E.T. flying around on a bike?" Dean chuckled as we entered Roswell, New Mexico. I punched him in the arm, not in the mood for his crap. He pouted and slid in the Monkees cassette I held out to him.

_Look out, here comes tomorrow. That's when I'll have to choose. How I wish I could borrow someone else's shoes._ _Mary, oh what a sweet girl, lips like strawberry pie. Sandra, the long hair and pig tails; can't make up my mind._

I grinned as I sang along with Davy Jones' sweet voice. Dean frowned at my mouth moving with the lyrics but he figured if playing the Monkees was the only way to keep me calm then it was totally worth it. Monkee-less monkee is not a happy monkee. Sam sat up in the back seat, rubbing his eyes and looking out the window.

"Where are we?"

"Where we're supposed to be, Smokey?" I replied, tossing him a map to study. Dean stopped the Impala in front of the Roswell Public Library and turned to me.

"Sam and I'll get a motel room and go talk to the coroner. You go research."

"Research? I came with you guys to get dirt on my hands, not to get a paper cut…that's Sam's job." The car behind us honked its horn.

"Women do better research." Dean smiled innocently before shoving me out of the car. I'll get him back for this.

I slowly walked into the modest building, watching the Impala drive away at the corner of my eye. I guess he was serious. I wasn't really sure what the hell I was looking for so I just asked locals about it, pretending to have an avid fascination with alien life forms, which were quite apparent with the apparel hanging on racks outside the library by vendors. Thankfully the inside of the library was terribly cool compared to the hot summer waves shouting at my skin, tanning me against my will. I sat at a lonely computer in the corner of the building and pulled up the internet.

Dean and Sam found me half off my seat, listening to Abba and watching a drunken guy get arrested on YouTube. In my defense, I had finished researching everything I could find hours later and I was just using some time to relax. Dean pulled out my headphones while Sam went through the stack of papers I had printed out.

"Hello princess," He smiled, sarcastically. "having fun?"

"Oh, Dean," I sighed and adjusted his light blue tie so it was aligned with his button down shirt.

"What've you got?" He asked rolling his eyes.

"It all depends on what you two found out."

"It's her for sure."

"Well, that's good," I groaned, going back to the computer and pulling out my handy dandy flash drive filled with all my previous jobs.

"Who?" Sam asked, standing next to Dean in front of me. "Dean, how do you know what this is?"

"It's called an aswang, Sam." Dean explained. "Max and I hunted her way back when."

"What's an aswang?"

"An ass-wang, Sam," I turned and started explaining. "is a vampire-like creature that originated in Filipino folklore. And it's said that she preys on women, living or dead, who are virgins. The original definition of the term 'aswang' is actually 'eater of the dead' but she goes after living hosts as well."

"Well, how do we stop it?"

"Killing the bitch is no problem: a holy, garlic water round to the heart and she's out cold. It's just that they're shape shifters and often take a human form during the day then turn into the friggen' headless horseman at night."

"What the hell is a 'holy, garlic water round'?"

"It's exactly what it sounds like it is, Sammy." Dean put in, rubbing his eyes. "Don't aswangs usually have a job as a butcher or something?" I nodded, starting to gather my things.

"Well," I sighed, shoving handfuls of paper and books into my brother's hands. "looks like you two better go see the butcher, yeah?"

"Son of a bitch…" Dean grumbled, following me out of the library. I turned with a deadly look in my eye.

"What did you say?"

"Noth—Nothing."

"That's what I thought, darling." I smiled and patted his face.


	16. Run

I looked at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. I smoothed down my hair, which was pulled up into a tight, military bun, and my black pencil skirt. I wore nude stockings, a white blouse and basically I looked like a penguin. I came out of the bathroom to see Dean and Sam pulling on their jackets.

"Ready?" Sam asked, tossing me the file on the victim Victoria Barnes.

"It's nice to be working with proper hunters again." I said through the tedious amount of information.

"You look like a nun." Dean pointed out with a cocky grin. "Wouldn't it be funny if the ass-wang came after you, Mother Superior?" I bit the inside of my lip trying my hardest to ignore his comment, shrugging.

"It'd also be funny if I beat you to death with a shovel but that's fun for another time." I walked out to the Impala, my nose still stuck in the folder.

"Whoa, watch out Max!" Sam pulled me back into the curb as a car sped by. "What the hell? Are you trying to get yourself killed?" I looked up at him with ingenuous eyes and shook my head.

"Excuse me, girls," Dean called out from the car, starting the engine. "you two got your panties in a knot or can we go?" Sam patted my back and opened the passenger's door for me while he sat in the back.

"Ah, what a gentleman." I smiled up at Sammy as he closed the door. Dean just rolled his eyes and pulled onto the main road, heading down to the coroner's building.

"I'm sorry, sir, all personnel must be searched before entering the building." The security guard eyed me, almost invisible behind Sam's large frame. My brothers were searched quickly then I reluctantly stepped forward, my arms up to my side. He slid his sticky fingers about my waist and side, pinching me every now and then. Dean saw the discomfort in my face and realized what the pervert was doing…God knows he would have done the same thing if he was frisking a girl.

"Hey, I think that's enough." My older brother growled pulling me between him and Sam. The security guard smirked at us and turned to the next one in line. "Friggen' douchebag,"

"Officer Washington, Officer McGillicuddy." The coroner greeted. "And…" I pulled out my badge.

"Sullivan." I replied, meeting Dean's gaze. Yeah, so? I had a fake identity named after my ex-boyfriend. No big deal.

"What've you got, doc?" Sam butt in.

"Well," The doctor removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes, motioning us to follow him to his office. "It's quite odd. Why in the world would someone steal an already dead body? It's a sick world we live in."

"Yes, sir." I agreed whole-heartedly. He handed me another folder, explaining the lacerations on the victim's body was far from ordinary…since when was anything we were involved in in any way ordinary?

By the time we left that office Dean and I were 200% sure that it was an aswang that we were hunting and we were gonna find that bitch.

Dean and I headed to the closest grocery store after dropping Sam off at the butchers. I handed him the basket while clicking down the aisles toward the onion smell. Dean wrinkled his nose and followed me like a lost puppy dog.

"Would you please hurry up?" I glanced behind me, noticing he was yards away checking out some slutty chick. "Dean…"

"What is it?" He looked up, noticeably annoyed that I had pulled him away from his eye sex session.

"Would you hurry up please?" He sulked to my side, pulling at his tie and collar. "What's wrong with you? Can't you go five minutes without this?"

"Without what?" I rolled my eyes and gathered two dozen heads of garlic, putting them in a bag and into the basket.

"You two newlyweds?" An old woman asked, smiling sweetly.

"Oh no—" Dean began. "She's my sister."

"Oh, how nice." She cooed. "You must be twins…you look so much alike."

"No," I said, nudging him so we could get going. "we're not twins."

"Oh my, what a lot of garlic." She said this with a bit of resentment.

"I'm actually planning on making this nice garlic butter sauce." I cocked my head, pretending to engage in deep conversation. "What you do is: melt butter in a small sauce pan then add the garlic. You sauté that for a bit then add oregano and basil." But we all know that was a lie and I was going to shred the garlic and smother it over bullets filled with holy water…like a boss.

"That sounds so good," Dean genuinely mentioned, putting a hand on my elbow and pulling me back.

"How wonderful! Well, it was nice speaking with you but I must be off to feed my ferret. Goodbye dears." The woman began pushing her cart away before turning back to us. "What are your names?"

"Well, I'm Max Sullivan and my brother Dean."

"Doris Long's my name. I'm sure I'll see you two about." Ms. Long turned disappeared in the next aisle, leaving Dean and I staring after her.

"That was so creepy." I said.

"You know what else is creepy? The fact that you have the same name as your dead, ex-boyfriend." I exhaled sharply and began walking to the check out.

"That _is_ pretty trippy. And has anyone ever told you that you are so damn sensitive?"

"Nope." Dean smiled proudly. "Well, actually there was that girl in—" I whacked his chest with my newspaper.

* * *

**Please review...I really need more feedback :) What do you think of Max? Is she too 'Dean'? **


	17. Back on the Road Again

If only we had seen the signs. If only we had known that that Doris Long bitch was behind everything then I probably wouldn't be dying in a smelly hospital. I mean, the doctor's weren't even attractive. I sounded more like Dean then I ever wanted to. They had given me morphine so the pain in my stomach was barely noticeable. Sam was half asleep on the couch by my bed. Where the hell was Dean? Just when I needed him the most he was AWOL. I'm going to have to remember to court martial his ass so hard his grandchildren'll feel it. I looked up at the white ceiling, hating this damn hospital, the lyrics to _Who Wants to Live Forever _playing through my head over and over again. Sam's phone rang and he sat up abruptly.

"Dean? Dean, where are you? Oh, my God. I'm coming." Sam snapped the phone shut and started for the door.

"Sam?"

"I'll be right back Max. I swear." He ran out into the hallway, leaving me alone to mope at death's door. I tried to sit up but straining the muscles in my midsection was just as painful as having them torn out. I glanced at my reflection on the mirror on the closet. Loose strands of hair hung down my face, giving me an attractive, sickly type of look and my eye sockets were dark and sunken.

"So, this is what dying feels like." I muttered to myself.

"Not quite." My head snapped up and my eyes rested on the familiar face standing two feet in the room.

"Max?"

"Hey, babe." His blue eyes sparkled as a red tint stained his pale face.

"Watch yourself, pretty boy." Dean growled, reluctant to leave me. Sam's hand appeared from the hall and pulled him out of the room, leaving me with my boyfriend. Max stood above me, the muscles in his neck moving every time he smiled.

"I am so sorry," I breathed, tears flowing down my cheek and falling on my throat. "I am so sorry, Max. I didn't mean to put you in danger—" He leaned over and gently pressed his lips against mine. I thought I would forget the way he kissed me or the way he touched me but those feelings came back just as we did. I put my hand on either side of his face, smiling past my tears. Butterflies flew in my stomach. "How did you come back?"

"Dean summoned me…but, not for long…just long enough for me to tell you that I love you."

"And I love you." I pulled him forward for another kiss, wanting to be as close to him as possible. He pulled away and kissed my forehead.

"I love you Max Winchester. I love you. I would die a hundred times over if it means that I can kiss you one last time." And he did. He kissed me one last time and then disappeared with a sad smile. It should have lasted longer. God knows I've failed Max time and time again but he loved me. He said so himself.

Dean ran in to see me crying and throwing anything my hand came in contact with across the room. My brother pulled me tightly against his chest and held me there, trying to calm me down. I held the lapels of his jacket with all my might. The pain in my stomach had disappeared under my grief.

"How am I still alive, Dean? How the hell am I still alive?"

"I don't know, Tiny, but I'm sure as hell glad you are." I stayed in his arms for a good ten minutes before suddenly feeling embarrassed and pushing him away. I'm a damn Marine. Suck it up and act like one. Sam stood at the foot of the bed, his eyes shining with tears as well. I bit my lip, feeling Max on my skin.

I was discharged from the hospital the next day, fit only to embrace the scars on my stomach. I should have been dead. That hag had punctured my liver…there was no way I should be alive unless Dean…nah! He isn't _that _stupid. He knows I would ring his neck if I found out he'd been at the crossroad. I grit my teeth at the thought and relaxed again. Maybe they had just laid some mojo on me…that was as comforting a thought as I had had since seeing Max.

"What I really want to know is: how'd you kill her if you burned her bones?"

"She's a screwed up spirit, Sam. Holy, garlic rounds kill her all up in here and not down there." Dean answered.

"Okay, one more question for you: if an aswang only goes after virgins…why'd it go after Max?" Sam looked at me, miserable again in the back seat. I rolled my eyes. "Oh, my God, Max you're you still a virgin."

"Arrest me," I muttered, guilty and irritant. My brothers went into a rage of laughter.

"Dude, no way!" Dean chortled, turning back to give his irritating thumbs up and that stupid ass smile. So much for that secret, now they're going to try their hardest to hook me up just to scare the guy to kingdom come when he finally sleeps with me. My brothers…


	18. Knowing Me, Knowing You

"Dude, Dean, eat your own chips…damn." There was some rustling of wrappers from the front of the Impala. I could smell the bacon burgers and the cinnamon in the apple pie as I loosened the strings of my hoodie around my face. I couldn't sleep with the sun on my face so I'd put my hood over my eyes and would tighten the strings so only my nose was sticking out of the opening. My face twitched when I felt something brush against the bottom of my nose. I batted Dean's hand away, the pain in my torso coming back. It was late in the afternoon as the sun was dimming behind the tree line and Sam handed me a wrapped burger.

"'Dude, Dean, eat your own chips…d-amn!" Dean mimicked, facing Sam as he shoved a potato chip into his mouth victoriously.

"Thanks. And shut up Dean." I murmured, starting to check between the bread and meat pattie.

"I took out the pickles…I know you don't, uh, 'fancy' them." I smiled at Sam…three years and a while without a soul really changes a person to the point where you can't tell where the hell they've changed. I set the burger down, got out of the Impala and walked to the side of the gas station where the bathroom was. I can only assume my brothers knew where I was going. I stared at my reflection…disheveled hair, dark bags under my eyes, long eyelashes. I wonder if people thought I was an attractive person…a juvenile way of thinking but it was a question that went through my mind often. Not that I was insecure, but when I'm put in between Dean and Sam, who are relatively good-looking, I didn't want to be the ugly duckling.

I started to cry…not knowing why. And to top off that odd loonyness, I made myself cry by speaking out my feelings to my reflection. I was the only one I could trust…I tend to bottle things up like Dean. I don't know how long I was in there but there was a strong rapping from the other side of the door.

"Max, what the hell are you doing in there?" Oh, Dean: always so damn, fucking sensitive. I washed my face in a hurry and avoided eye contact with my brother as I briskly walked back to the Impala, bracing myself for another set of long hours squished up in this dumb car.

"You okay?" Sam asked. I smiled quickly and nodded, hoping that he would see past my fake assurance and insist that I talk to him. But that was the other thing about being like Dean; we were too good of liars to admit that we wanted that attention. The door of the car groaned open and Dean slid in front of the wheel.

"Sourpuss in there says there's been shanking's in the next town over, you wanna check it out?"

"We are not the Ghostbusters, Dean." I protested.

"We kinda are, Max." Sam replied, resting his elbow on the seat.

"If that's true, then I'm Venkman."

"Hey, I'm Venkman." Dean turned a full 180 degrees to look back at me.

"You can't be Venkman…you always get the hot girls."

"That's exactly why I'm Venkman."

"Well, I hope you bang the Gatekeeper hard enough—"

"Calm down children." Little Sam tried. Dean and I snapped our gazes to him.

"You're gonna be the Marshmallow Man, Smokey." *Bitch Face* Dean chuckled and started up the engine. He looked back at me from the rear view mirror.

"I'm Venkman." He mouthed with a wiggle of his eyebrows. I rolled my eyes, stuffing my hands into my pockets and putting a leg onto the seat.

"Spengler's cooler anyway." I muttered, looking out into the Colorado mountainside.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Spengler's the weenie."

"Spengler's the tall, handsome one."

"Tall? Max, you're about the size of Rhode Island."

"Maybe that thing between your legs, man, but not me." Sam laughed at Dean's befuddled expression.

"That was pretty good for you, Max." My moose clapped. I grinned, proud to have gotten the best of my brother.

"Tell me something I don't know, jackass."

"She's getting better, Dean. Gotta give it to her."

"I'll give her the benefit of the doubt, and that's all."

"Ooo," I mocked. "I'm hurt."

"Shud up, Max." Dean replied, making me smile to myself.

* * *

**A terribly big hug and thanks to all my followers! Without you wonderful collection of people I would be dead now :)**

**The story gets better...I swear!**


	19. Walk on the Wild Side

The sun was just about to set as the Impala pulled into the parking lot for Motel 6. Dean went into the lobby while Sam and I rested against the side of the car. I leaned against my little brother, huddling in his enormity to keep warm. I waved my hands about my face as I felt a sneeze coming on. I didn't like sneezing, because I would sneeze so loudly, so I held it back which resulted in a squeaking sound.

"Aw, that was cute. Do it again." Sam chuckled, nudging me with his elbow. I sniffed, rubbing the tip of my nose due to that irritating tingling feeling you get after you sneeze. "Are you getting sick?"

"I'm fine, Sam. Don't worry about me."

"Who's gonna worry about you then?" I groaned.

"I don't need this Sam. Not now. Just let it be, would ya?"

"You know, I don't understand why you and Dean keep pushing me away. I'm your brother, Max. I want to help you. I want to keep you safe."

"Please, Sam…" I leaned against his upper arm.

"Just talk to me, Max."

"About what?"

"About Sullivan maybe?" Goosebumps rose on my arm.

"Naw," I changed my mind, Max Sullivan was the last person in the world that I wanted to think about. Sam sighed in defeat, glancing over to the office where Dean was coming down with a key twirling around his finger.

"Grab your stuff, chickies. We got a room with a view."

"Thank you Helena Bonham Carter." I gathered my rucksack from the backseat, fished out the key from Dean's pocket and walked to the room.

The air in the room was humid, but it was better than that musty/dusty feeling that I had previously experienced. My brothers followed close behind me, throwing their duffle bags on the bed. I helped Dean with the salt lines underneath the doors and windows. I put a salt crystal in my mouth, making Dean wrinkle his nose in distaste.

"Wow, that's salty." I gagged.

"No shit, Sherlock." My big brother clapped me on the back and walked to the bathroom. Sam huffed, lying stomach first on the bed, burying his face in the pillow. I sat on his back and he bellowed in protest.

"Blahhhh." Was his cry of opposition. I shoved his head deeper into the sheets. Sam suddenly sat up straight, sending me tumbling down to the ground.

"Where's Max?" Dean asked, coming out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist.

"Put some pants on, Dean-o." I mumbled from the carpeted floor, crossing my arms under my head and using it as a pillow.

"Can you give me my pants?" I blindly groped around for his duffle bag. Once I found that, I pulled out his denim jeans and awkwardly twisted my arm to throw it back to him.

"These aren't my jeans. Damn, this would be too big for a whale."

"Those are mine." Sam pointed out, sprawling back onto the bed.

"Like I said, this would be too big for a whale." Dean and I shared a grin before he went back into the bathroom, his boxers in one hand and his bag in the other.

"I like that color." I mumbled.

"What?" Dean paused at the entrance to the bathroom.

"Your boxers. It's a nice color. Kinda like a dark green but kinda green blue."

"Of all the screwed up things you have said, Max…this takes the cake."

"I like cake. Dean, once you have your pants on can we go get some cake?"

"After I get my pants on, I going to the closest bar and I'm gonna find me some hot girl and these pants are coming right off."

"I guess you're not getting pie then."

"Relax, mother superior, it's all part of the job."

"'Part of the job' my ass."

"And what a wonderful ass I have too."

"Are you taking the Impala?"

"No, why?"

"I'm not walking two miles to get to the closest Shoppers, bro."

"Whoa, if you think I'm going to let you drive my baby then you—you're out of your mind, bitch." I sat up, leaning back on my arm so I could look at him.

"Then drop me off at the store and then pick me up." He groaned, rolling his eyes back.

"Fine," Dean tossed me the keys and pulled on his jacket. "One scratch and you're dead as a doornail."

"What if I get two scratches?"

"Don't be a smartass. I'll drive you to the store but you're a Marine…you can walk back."

"Are you serious?" Dean grinned. "Fine, whatever. I'll walk back. And it's ex-Marine to you."

* * *

**Hope you liked this chapter :)**


	20. Jar of Hearts

*Dean's POV*

"Hey babe," I leaned against the counter next to a hot blonde. "Are you a model? Because, uh," I pulled out my fake i.d. "I just happen to work with Aspen Modeling Agencies and we're looking for lovely looking girls like you." She went into fits of giggles. She better be good in between my sheets.

"Wow, Eric." I guess that was my name on the i.d. "How long have you worked for the Aspen Modeling Agencies."

"As long as you'll have me." I cocked my head, a seductive grin on my face. It didn't make any sense but the chick was half drunk anyway. Man, I was good.

"I'm sorry, Eric. I'm flattered, honest, but I have a girlfriend."

"I'm always up for a three-way." She frowned. "I could watch." She slapped me. Okay, maybe I wasn't _that _good, but I was good nonetheless. After one more drink I headed back to the motel. Max should be back by now and I was dying for some pie.

Sammy had his nose in his laptop when I came into the motel room.

"Where's Max?" He shrugged.

"She didn't come back here. I figured she was with you."

"Yeah, I dropped her off at the store."

"I think I figured out what this creature is. It's said that the Behemoth—the manlier version of Leviathans—goes after loners. You know, people who walk alone in a dark alleyway or something. They capture their victims, torture them for a bit them feed them to the Leviathans. Kinda a food chain process. You can't kill 'em but I'm sure Borax and the whole chopping the head off will keep them down. Anyway, when are you going to pick Max up?" Then it hit me.

"Shit! I told her to walk back." I ran out to the Impala, starting the engine. "Stay here Sammy!"

I was going off my head as I drove the nearly empty road back to the store, calling my sister's name at the top of my lungs. I put a hand on my face, trying to cover up my tears. It was my fault. I should have picked her up. I should have let her take the Impala. I should have been the one to walk back to the motel. I nearly lost her once and I had one year to live because of it. There was no way in hell that I was going to lose her. I know she would kill me if I said that I went to the crossroads demon to get her life back. I was meaning to tell her but it didn't mean anything to me by sacrificing myself to keep my sister safe. I would do anything for her. It was all my fault. I had to find her. I saw a glimmer of a flashlight in the woods. I stopped the car and ran out into the forest. I had to find her. I had to. I pumped my arms by my side, screaming out her name, as I ran after the retreating light. Suddenly, I felt a pang of pain in the back of my head and everything went black.


	21. Time After Time

*Max's POV*

"Max! Max, please, talk to me!" I felt a heavy booted foot kicking my upper thigh. I groggily opened my eyes and adjusted myself to the dim lighting. My hands were bound—how cliché—and I sat in a small cell with Sam.

"How the hell'd you get here, Sammy?" I scooted closer to him, catching sight of dried blood trailing down his cheek. He expertly fiddled with the knife in his sleeve to cut the heavy duty rope around his wrists. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, Max, I'm fine." He groaned. "Those bastards just hit my head hard enough. Feels like a friggen' freight train punched me."

"It's going to be alright Sam." I craned my neck up and kissed his cheek. "I'll make sure you get outta here in one piece." There was a loud clanging followed by footsteps. I hurried back to my original place just as a dark figure stood beside the cell.

"Get the bitch." A woman said in the distance.

"Max—" Sam began cautiously when the cell was unlocked by the ringing of jangling keys.

"I've got you, Sam. Don't you worry." I managed to whisper before I was roughly tossed over a man's shoulder.

"Honey, you better put me down before a waterfall of chunky potatoes and bacon bits goes down your back." The man grunted and handled me a bit more roughly, not caring if I hit my head on the low metal tubing. I was taken into a brighter room and tossed into a chair across from Dean. "Thanks handsome." I smiled up at the bald man that had brought me.

"Sam?" I blinked once, waited three seconds then blinked again. That was Dax (our language (Dean and Max put together)) for 'Sam is in the process of saving our sorry asses.' A young, beautiful woman came from the shadows, her clothing sleek and expensive looking.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't Dean and Max Winchester. Ah, the overprotective brother and the needy, little whore." I kinda wanted to stick a pencil through her throat to stop that sing-song-y voice but all I could do is play this out.

"I know that's you, but what am I?" I asked, my sweetest smile plastered on my face.

"Max, shut up." Dean warned just as the woman motioned to the bald man. Ignoring my brother, I continued.

"What are you going to do Little John? Take meh to da choppa?" I nearly yelped as his brass knuckles landed against my jaw, numbing the side of my face. "Wow, you hit like my brothers." I taunted, tasting the blood mix in with my saliva.

"You don't know how to shut up do you?" The woman snarled. I kept my eyes on her, shrugging as best as I could with my hands bound behind me. "You know something else you don't know? Your fearless brother here," She slapped Dean's back. "he exchanged his life for yours with the crossroads demon last week." I didn't do so much more as twitch. "Because of you, Dean Winchester only has one year to live with you and your precious little Sammy."

"Shut up, bitch!" My brother barked, the same anger I saw in myself I could see in him now.

"Tell me she's lying, Dean." I ordered calmly.

"Max—"

"Tell me." I growled.

"Yes, I did. I wasn't going to watch you die."

"How ironic," The woman cackled, a knife in her hand. "looks like you're gonna have to, big boy." She brought her knife against my upper arm, forcing the blade into my skin until I winced in pain. I clamped my mouth shut, biting at my lip. She continued till I finally gasped out in pain.

"Please stop." Dean begged, tears arising in his eyes. "Max, I'm so sorry. I should have been there for you. I—" Baldie clocked him, sending my brother falling over with his chair.

"What the hell do you want with us?" I asked, trying to contain my pain.

"Alrightie Winchesters, only one of you is going to make it out of here with little Sammy. So, who's going to be the one to sacrifice themselves?"

"Me!" Dean and I shouted in unison. She laughed joyfully—sadistic tramp.

"Back off Max!" Dean's eyes pleaded for me to stop. But that was the funny thing about me: I didn't know when to stop.

"Let them go. You got me, you fugly slut." I exclaimed, watching Baldie set Dean upright with one fluid motion. The woman grit her teeth and then shoved the knife into my thigh. I howled in pain, feeling like a four stone weakling. Tears streamed down my face at their own accord, not paying any mind to my personal self-respect. Blood seeped up from the wound and ran down my leg. Dean shouted my name, struggling with his position.

"Dean, shut up!" I screamed as metallic ooze dripping down my throat and into my shirt. "You've had your joy ride in hell. It's my turn."

"Max, please…"

"Hey! Take care of Sammy, Dean! Take care of Sammy."

"Damn it Max. I'm not letting you do this! That's an order, young lady. If you do this, then I'll never forgive you." I smiled past the sweat and tears and blood and grime.

"I'm not too worried about that." I turned to the woman. "Do it." She grinned, raising a sharp titanium rod and thrust it into my stomach. I had the wind knocked out of me as I regained my stance slowly.

I blinked for a bit, watching Sam wrestling with Baldie and Castiel choking the life out of the woman before untying Dean and helping Sam. My oldest brother pulled me up against his chest, cutting the harsh rope. I spit out my mouthful of blood and struggled to find a regular breathing system.

"You're going to be fine, monkee. It's not that bad." Dean encouraged, his tears landing on my forehead. Sam caught my hand just as I was about to pull out the rod in my midsection. "Cas, do something. Do anything! Please!"

"There is nothing I can do, Dean."

"The hell there isn't. Fix her!"

"Pull the damn rod out!" I felt my face going white…it was like dying in that hospital.

"No," Sam gripped both of my hands. "It's going to do more damage."

"Max, stay with us! Don't you dare close your eyes." Dean smacked my face, sending another sharp stab of pain go down my body.

"Dean?" I coughed, trying to muster my strength.

"Yeah, monkee, I'm right here. Talk to me." He wiped the blood that dripped from the corner of my mouth with his thumb. "Max, talk to me." His eyes were red from the stinging tears and his lips quivered.

"I love you and Sammy." I sobbed, noting a sinking feeling in my soul. And then I saw them…standing with their arms around each other smilng and welcoming me into the red gates. "Mom and Dad say hi."

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**Reviews for ideas would be much appreciated :) Thank you for all the kind words of encouragement you've given. It means a lot!**


	22. Highway to Hell

**Just to clear some things up: Dean made a deal with the crossroad demon to SAVE Max from her aswang wounds...Sam does have his soul (that scene was taken straight from the show). Sorry for any confusion or anything. Hope you like the next chapter :)**

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You know, I figured death would be one hell of a journey but it really isn't. Death is like birth…when you're born you have no idea what the crap is going on, but death is the same way. One minute you're with your brothers and an angel and the next minute everything's just dark. No flames, no fat-bottomed children, no nothing. I was standing in a posh living room, the blood red sunset streaming through the glass walls. I went about touching everything—oh, what Dean would say about that description. I just wanted to know that I was alive…I guess I was because a dark-haired man in a black suit sat in a wing chair.

"Welcome back to the land of the living, Miss Winchester." He spoke regally with a stupid ass accent.

"I take it you're the one who brought me back." He nodded. "Why?"

"Hey! A simple thank you would suffice." I flicked him off, making his grin stretch wider. He stood and, while inspecting his fingernails, came towards me. "I do think that you're the most intriguing Winchester I've met to date…tell me, why haven't we met before?"

"Who are you?" His head snapped up in surprise.

"Why, I'm Crowley, King of Hell." I swept down in a sarcastic bow, reaching inside of my pockets.

"Well, your majesty, do me a favor and zap me back to Bobby's or your royal brains are going to be royally spread on my royal toast you son of a bitch." I held the Colt out at an arm's length. Crowley chuckled.

"You may be the prettiest Winchester I've seen, but surely you're not the dumbest. Everyone knows the Colt has no more bullets left." I cocked the gun and aimed it at the King of Hell.  
"You really want to find out Chief?"

"Did I leave your soul in hell as well, love?" I sighed, exasperated.

"Are you going to send me to Bobby's or not?"

"Oh, very well." Crowley groaned. "But, I am bent on seeing you soon."

Suddenly, I was standing in the all too familiar kitchen. Before I even had a chance to defend myself, the Colt was twisted out of my grip and my arm was pinned far behind my back while Bobby drenched me with a flask.

"Really, Bobby, whiskey?!" I asked, tasting the alcohol that dripped on my lips.

"Whoops." Bobby grinned, unscrewing the other identical flask and upending that straight into my face.

"Damn Bobby! I can't even see!" I sputtered, wiping my eyes with my free arm.

"Who the hell are you?" Sam growled, my gun pressed against my neck. How ironic.

"Don't you take that tone with me Smokey or I'll make sure you have a life-threatening case of foot-in-the-ass."

"Slice her," Dean suggested, his grip on my arm not getting any more gentle. "just to be sure." Everyone watched as Sam drew pure, red, Winchester blood from my arm with a pen knife.

"Monkee?" Dean close to suffocated me in his arms. Next, Sam did in fact swallow me in his embrace, lifting me off my feet and shaking me about. Bobby gave me a quick peck on the cheek, still muttering about wasting perfectly good whiskey.

"We knew you'd come back. I tried telling these idjits that you'd manage to whoop every ass in hell." He clapped my shoulder a proud grin on his old face.

"Not quite." I smiled briefly. "Who's the kid?" I raised my eyebrows, motioning to the quiet figure standing in a navy blue jacket in the corner, his hands in his pockets. His eyes were an icy blue…obviously captivating.

"He's our brother Adam." Sam replied. I chuckled, refusing to believe a word of it. I mean, how could he be our brother? Mom died way back when—

"Dad." I tried not to frown. My stomach flipped in a sick motion, just imagining John Winchester, my father, making a family with some other woman…having a son while Dean, Sam, and I are forced to live this life. How dare he? How could he? Did he really think we were so expendable? All three of his _real _children have gone to hell. And all three of us have come back. I mean, looking at that kid I can only see weakness. Winchester's are strong and that boy was not a Winchester. But, I look at that kid and I feel sorry for him. I mean, he lost both his parents too, and we're all he's got. I walked up to Adam and smiled. "Welcome to hell, kid." He just nodded uncomfortably. "My name's Max. If you're hungry I can heat something up for you."

"No. No, thank you."

"She just got back from hell." Bobby put in, a sorry excuse for my poor behavior. I picked up the Colt from the dirty tiles and took out the bullet.

"How'd you get the Colt back?" Sam furrowed his eyes, running his hand along the barrel.

"An old friend of yours." I smiled reassuringly, looking around for Dean. He was in the living room on his cell phone, distraught. I just got back from hell and he's on call waiting…damn, I've missed 'em.

"You know who brought you back Max?" Bobby asked, taking a long swig out of his flask.

"I have a pretty good idea." I felt my skin start getting sticky from the whiskey. To resist the urge to claw my eyes out I started loading my Hardballer, everyone watched me as if I was going to start open fire at any minute. "I…am going to go shoot something." They didn't stop me.

I was halfway through with the magazine when I felt a tap on my shoulder. Castiel caught my fist just as I was about to clock his jaw. His bright blue eyes were emotionless as he lowered my hand to my side.

"Why did Crowley bring you back?"

"Ah, not even a hello, blue eyes?"

"I need to know."

"If I knew then I sure as hell would have told you, right?"

"What do you remember?"

"I don't—" He took both of my shoulders and shook me.

"You have to remember something, Max!"

"You're hurting me. Cas—Castiel, stop!"

"How did you get the Colt?" Tears of frustration seeped down my face.

"Hey! What the hell Cas?" Dean pulled me into his arms, stroking the back of my head as I cried into his shoulder. "Stay away from her. I mean it Cas."

"But—"

"Shut up Cas!" I don't know why I was sobbing…I felt like an absolute weenie just standing there crying into my brothers shirt. "It's gonna be alright, honey."

"Cas—" The angel had disappeared. "I don't know why he brought me back. I didn't—I didn't ask to come back."

"Who brought you back, monkee?"

"Crowley." Dean pushed me back to look into my face.

"Are you serious?" I brushed away my tears and nodded. "Son of a bitch."

"He was quite charming actually." Dean scoffed, kissing my forehead and tucking my head under his chin as he hugged me. "He also said that he was going to see me again."

"We'll see about that."

"How long have I been gone Dean?"

"Nearly ten months."

"Oh," I sighed.

"You don't remember anything about hell do you?"

"No, actually. One minute I was dying and the next minute I'm with Crowley." I put my hand on my forehead, feeling a fever coming on. "When exactly where you going to tell me that dad knocked up some bitch and had a kid? How old is the kid anyway? He doesn't even look like he hit puberty yet."

"Dad was on a job in Windom, Minnesota way back in the early '90s. And…I guess it just happened. She was a nurse." I scoffed, hating what I was hearing.

"Dean, we were rotting in a hotel room while he was off cheating with that woman."

"Who's this about, Max?" His voice rose. "Is this about us or is this about dad?"

"Both! We have given up everything for that man and he—"

"He didn't even know about Adam till 2002."

"Oh wow, if you don't remember that was when Sam left."

"You left too, Max. You always leave."

"I leave because you have never asked me to stay, Dean. 'Don't worry about your brothers' he says. 'They can take care of themselves' he says. Look, do forgive me for not taking this well but I just came back from the dead and I'm not too happy about being here to tell the truth."

"So you wanted to stay in hell?" I balled my fist and threw it against his jaw. "What the hell was that for, bitch?"

"That was for going to the crossroads demon, you douchebag!"

"I did it for you." He held his mouth.

"Why didn't you just let me die?"

"Let you die? Let you die?! I watched you die, Max. And I couldn't do anything about it. So, when there was a chance that I could save you then I sure as hell am going to take it." Man, was my mood changing like a little bitch or what? I turned away from my brother, shooting the coke cans set at a hundred meters.

"What's dead should stay dead, Dean. You said so yourself."

"Not you, Max! I died that day! You and Sam…you're all I got. I'm not going to give you up that easily."

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**I honestly didn't mean to make Cas seem like the bad guy...I'll make it up, I swear :D**


	23. Heaven Help Us

"I was actually studying pre-med at the University of Wisconsin when I met Sam and Dean." Adam explained, his hands still stuffed into his pockets. "It was such a surreal experience knowing that I had siblings, you know? I grew up with just my mom but then dad came and, you know, taught me pool and poker…took me to ball games for my birthday. He actually bought me my first beer when I was fifteen." Waves of jealousy washed over my face, and I felt my cheeks going red. Dean was holding an ice pack against his jaw and Sam's eyes were glued on me. The corner of my mouth twitched when Adam told us how our dad taught him how to drive the Impala. I hated that car, to be honest, but it was always Dean's baby and I felt a bit possessive towards it when it wasn't claimed by my older brother.

"Wow," I murmured when Adam had finished his speech. "looks like you had a pretty good life for the most part." He nodded slowly, not knowing what I was getting at.

"I mean, I have siblings. After my mom died I was kinda momentarily out of action but I'm not completely alone, I guess." I smiled, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Are you hungry?"

"Good God," Bobby exclaimed. "leave the poor boy alone, mommy!"

"Let him answer, Bobby. Are you hungry Adam?"

"I'm fine…thanks." I shrugged.

"You're loss, broski."

"Dude, she makes a mean pie." Dean put in with a snarky smile. I swear, I think my brother loved pie as much as he loved sex and alcohol. Aha, think of that! Dean Winchester likes: sex, booze, and pie!

"What the heck are you smiling about, girl?" Bobby snapped.

"These are not the droids you're looking for." Dean chuckled, turning to Sam and pointing at me.

"I love her. I love you Captain."

"Shut up, McQueen." I playfully punched his side.

"What are you idjits talking about?!"

"Well," Sam started off in his very important tone. "In the 1963 movie _The Great Escape_ Steve McQueen played Captain Virgil Hilts also known as 'The Cooler King.'"

"Blah, blah, blah. Dean's McQueen, I'm the Captain, and Sammy's Hilts…"

"Why?"

"Oh, come on, Bobby, it makes for a great escape."

"I see what you did there." I smiled at Dean, who was polishing the mouth of his beer bottle with his thumb.

"You idjits are stupider than I imagined…I hope the kid isn't as half-assed as you three."

"Oh, come now, Bobby!" I exclaimed, pulling him into a tango stance, his stubble scratching against my cheek bone. He pushed me away from him roughly, making me stumble against Sam. "Geez, cranky there." I grinned when I saw Adam with a small smile on his face. I guess the kid wasn't all that bad. "Hey, where's the Charger?" I had totally forgotten about my baby. Sam and Dean shared a look.

"Well, the Charger—" Dean started uneasily. I whacked him over the head with the closest cookie sheet I could find.

"That escalated quickly. You were saying."

"The body's a bit scratched up and the rims are bent." Bobby put in, smiling.

"Damn, monkee, you're abusive. I was gonna tell you that I'm fixing her up for you."

"He. The Charger's a dude." Dean shot me a disgusted look. "You don't understand our love."

"Let me guess, you named him after your dead boyfriend." I frowned. He was really going too far with those dead boyfriend jokes. "Sorry." I just rolled my eyes, tears sinking me down between the floorboards.

"Ash named the Charger after himself." I put out with a small smirk.

"Oh, God! Gross." Sam coughed, awkwardly running his fingers through his hair.

"Get your mind out of the gutter, Sam!" Bobby smacked my poor little brother on the shoulder. "She's your sister."

"She's still a virgin." Dean snickered. I kicked the back of his knee so he fell against the table before giving him a wet Willie. Aha, victory! We have victory!

I walked into the kitchen later where my brothers were teaching Adam how to field strip a pistol. He seemed to be learning fast. You never know when your gun is going to malfunction when you've got a supernatural creature attacking you. I walked straight to the fridge, pulling out my boys as well as a tall glass from the cupboard. Oh, Jim, Jack, and Jose were always there for me when I needed them. Sam watched me pour a third of everything in my cup, his eyebrows arched in questionable curiosity. I forced the liquid down my throat, grimacing as it left a sharp sensation in my mouth, and let out a heavy sigh. My brother stood and slowly pried the glass from my grasp.

"Go take a nice long walk, Capt'n. We'll hold down the fort." He whispered holding my jacket open like the gentleman. I nodded half-heartedly and slid into my black double-breasted coat.

I was about a half a mile down the long driveway when Castiel appeared, an apologetic scowl on his face. He walked quietly with me for a bit before beginning to find his words.

"I hope I have not offended you by my past actions." He said gruffly, his trench coat brushing against my leg.

"No, Castiel…I am just fine."

"I sense distrust."

"What else do you sense?" I asked quietly, glancing in his blue eyes.

"Sadness, betrayal, pain…" I chewed at my check, biting the flesh to suppress my angst. "And obscurity." I couldn't help but laugh at that last part.

"Obscurity, huh? You're a strange bird, Cas."

"I find birds to be quite pleasant creatures." We walked in silence for a couple of meters before I found it appropriate to speak once again.

"Why do you suppose that Crowley brought me back? I'm not as dangerous as my brothers."

"You're a Winchester, Maxine. You're branded as being dangerous. And as for Crowley, he exhibits more of his selfish gains through the use of others then to be deceptive like other demons."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean, Castiel? Am I supposed to be his puppet?" The angel stopped and turned to me, a stern look in his face.

"You were made to fulfill a purpose in this world, Max. Dying in place of Dean was an obstacle that could have gone either way." I scoffed.

"But, of course, you surely wouldn't have let Dean die, would you? I love the guy, but what makes him so special to you?" Castiel furrowed his eyebrows, his face still somber and emotionless. I brushed a loose strand of hair out of my face and squinted up into the clear sky.

"Dean and I do share a more profound bond. I wasn't going to mention it." I chuckled to myself. "I'm glad you find my truthfulness amusing."

"That's not it, Cas. One more question: why is the Colt so important to you now?"

"Lucifer was the last one to possess the Colt…"

"I see where that's a problem."

"I should hope so."

"But, honest to goodness, I remember nothing about hell. Not…when I'm awake anyway." Castiel paused again, squinting eagerly for me to explain myself. "What? I have nightmares. I have nightmares then I get drunk like a bastard…what do you want me to tell you?"

"Is Dean aware of this?"

"I'm sure I gave him a big enough clue. What's up with Adam anyway? Where the hell did he come from?"

"It is a long story." I started to walk back to Bobby's, yearning for some whiskey.

"We got till the house."

"I do not think that I will be most comfortable telling you." But he told me nonetheless. He told me everything and I felt a bit of my remaining innocence and securities slowly diminish. Who knew angels were the assholes? I was proud of Dean for refusing to be Michael's vessel and I just died inwardly when those damned angels caused friction between my brothers. Sick bastards. I felt responsible. I should have been with my brothers instead of running off to the hideous sound of Metallica that night…but they should have called me—it would have taken ONE word from Dean and Sam and I would be at their side in a minute. I would do anything for them—hell! I died for them. But, Dean died for Sam and Sam died for Dean. It was only fair that I die for the both of them. Like I said, it was my turn for a joy ride in hell.

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**Tell me what you think. Tell me if you liked it or totally hated it :)**


	24. Dream Light, Sleep Tight

When I closed my eyes to sleep I saw flames. Not the flame of a lighter or a bonfire nor the light of some asshole spirits' bones or military artillery…I saw the flames of damnation and shame and contempt. I saw the flames of my worst nightmares and in those flames I saw my handsome father—now all scruff and tears. I shut my eyes to his face. Beyond that doubled darkness was the sound of sickening wails and cries of despair. Chains rattles and the echoing snap of whips buzzed into my ears as if they were forcing me to focus on them instead of the sight before me. My hands were bound and I felt a razor slicing my torso and slowly trail blood down to my waist.

"Daddy!" I sobbed in desperation. "Daddy, help me!" My father's eyes fell as his tears simmered against the hardened lava that we stood upon. Alistair chortled at my pain, nicking the soft skin in my inner thigh mercilessly.

"You gonna cry, Winchester?" Too late for that you sick bastard. "Cry for me."

"Stop, please stop!" He grinned, putting more pressure on the blade…carving deeper into my leg. The welts burned as if someone was trying to put out the fire—the sting—with gasoline. I grit my teeth, squirming under the heat and the pain and the crisp blood.

My eyes fluttered open to a cool bedroom, with the familiar smell of whiskey and South Dakota. My bed sheets were dry but despite this I twisted onto my back, staring up into the pleasant darkness of reality. I pulled the warm sheets over my chest but let my arms fall to my side to soak up the cold air circulating. There was a rustle from the corner of the room, my hand instantly reaching for the field knife beneath my pillow.

"Please don't scream." I heard Castiel's footsteps approach my bedside. I sat up, pulling my hair into a decent ponytail instead of the mess it was in prior. "You remember, don't you?"

"Yeah," I whispered, pulling my knees against my chest and leaning against the backboard. "I remember everything."

"How did you get the Colt? Maxine?"

"Uhm…" I licked the corner of my mouth then my bottom lip. "I found it outside of a cage. There were two men inside…one had dark hair and the other had these weird scars around his face...said he knew Sam." Castiel sighed and dropped his head. "What is it? Who are they?"

"They are my brothers."

"Your—your brothers? You mean to tell me that you have angel-kind down under?"

"Yes," He said gruffly. I scoffed, throwing the blanket off my legs and practically on Castiel while I nearly sprinted down the kitchen.

Dean and Bobby were sharing a drink in the living room and casually watched me down a whole bottle of some Irish whiskey right at the fridge. I stopped for a moment to catch my breath but my mind was telling me to keep drinking.

"That was hard to get hands on," Bobby noted before Dean pulled the bottle out of my mouth, setting it far away from me. He put both his hands on either of my shoulders, trying to convince me to focus on his face.

"What is it? Monkee, what happened?"

"I—I remembered." I tried swallowing that painful rock in my throat. "I remembered everything Dean. I remembered everything."

"Bobby, get a blanket would ya?" Dean ordered, wrapping his arms around me to keep me from shivering in my t-shirt and gym shorts. "It's gonna be okay. I swear, it's gonna be okay." He kissed my temple, pressing my head against his jaw. The lights began to flicker, sending Dean pushing me behind him and reaching for his gun.

"Miss Winchester!" Came the familiar cry.

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**Again, thank you for reading and please leave a review-even if you didn't like the chapter! Have a nice day :)**


	25. Fear the Reaper

"Oh, and hello to you too, Dean." Crowley said with a bit of a frown. Dean kept his stance between me and the King of Hell. Bobby came in, an old quilt in one hand. "Taking up sewing Singer?"

"Shud up!" Was Bobby's reply as he handed me the quilt.

"You," Dean snapped, motioning the butt of his gun at Crowley. "You stay away from her." Crowley rolled his eyes, yawning in boredom.

"I thought we were friends, Maxine." I glowered at him from past Dean's shoulder. "I mean you _did _threaten me. If I can recall, I believe your exact words were along the lines of: Zap me back to Bobby's or your royal brains are going to be royally spread on my royal toast you son of a bitch."

"That's my girl." Dean grinned.

"Well," Crowley continued. "I've 'zapped' you back now you tell me how you came to possess the Colt?"

"You're the King of Hell, you tell me." I stepped away from the wall which was my older brother and stood in the open.

"Va-va-Winchester." Crowley smirked in approval, looking me down from head to toe.

"Hey! Her eyes are up here, asshole!" Bobby cried, motioning with two fingers to the top of his face.

"What's all this?" Sam and Adam stared at the scene before them, rubbing their sleep filled eyes.

"I've come to collect my possession." Crowley explained, much to my surprise.

"She's not going anywhere with you." Adam said, again, much to my surprise, stood next to me, a protective hand on my elbow. Sam stood on the other side of me, looking fiercer than a—well, Dean looked fiercer than a pit bull—whereas Sam just looked like a vicious whale. I ducked underneath their arms and stood before Crowley, my arms crossed and my left knee bent in impatience.

"And what if I refuse?" I asked, feeling Dean inching forward, ready to snatch me away if the demon tried anything funny. Crowley laughed.

"You think I want _you_? I want the Colt."

"Oh," I smiled, walking to the fridge. "Sam, can you get me the box?" Without question, Sam did as I asked, handing me the steel box from the cabinet high above my reach. I sniffed, and pointed the gun at Crowley with a wry grin.

"The bullet won't kill me, Maxine." He smiled.

"I know," I replied, squeezing the trigger so the last bullet lodged itself snugly in his neck. "but next time, don't be such a killjoy."

"This isn't even the proper bullet." Crowley inspected the small piece of metal that was covered with the blood of his meat suit.

"Well, I could have told you that, you stupid wanker." I tossed the gun to Adam. "What the hell do you want with the Colt anyway?"

"Oh, let's just call it leverage."

"Alright, Captain Jack," Dean stepped forward beside me. "…leverage for what exactly?"

"Oh, a little bit of this…a little bit of that. If you don't give me the Colt then I _will_ take your sister. We'll see how nice she looks on a pole." My eyes widened.

"What type of pole?"

"I think you know, Miss Winchester." In my mind, I found myself thinking about my head on a pole—much like that Uruk-Hai in _The Two Towers_—or as a stripper. I could tell Dean was thinking the same thing 'cause he looked like he was about to puke.

"Okay, fine." I agreed. "but what do we get out it?"

"Your life…if that means anything to you." I rolled my eyes.

"How so very melodramatic. But, seriously, we still have the Colt and I want to make a deal."

"What! Max, are you crazy?" Adam jerked me back, Bobby and my brothers all glaring at me.

"What do you propose monkee?" I frowned.

"Only he can call me that." I nodded my head to Dean. "I want you to break off the deal Dean made with the crossroad demon."

"I can't do that—"

"Oh, right and I can't just slit your throat for the hell of it."

"Max…"

"Shut up, Dean." I snapped, turning back to the demon.

"It won't do much good, Miss Winchester."

"Like I said: just for the hell of it." Crowley thought this over, thinking over the pros and cons.

"Okay," He tapped his lips with two fingers. "Let's seal the deal, shall we?"

"Oh, God, I can't watch this." Dean groaned facing away from the sight of me kissing Crowley.

"Damn, you didn't have to use tongue, you bastard." I pulled away, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. "Are you—is that—?"

"Cherry chap stick."

"Well, thank you for that Katy Perry." I sneered sarcastically shoving the steel box into his chest.

"Take it out, darling." I chewed on my cheek, slowly pulling out the Colt. Once he was satisfied with what he was handed he dismissed himself with a snap of his fingers, Colt and all.

"Max," Dean finally shouted, a line forming between his eyes. "What the hell were you thinking?"

"Oh, save me your dramatics Dean."

"You do not—under any damn circumstances—do that."

"Well, cry me a river bro." I got all up in his face, hating the way he belittled me even after I had just saved his ass.

"You are so selfish, Max. I swear to God—" I sucked up patience, coiled my arm back and snapped Dean across the jaw. Bobby and Adam held Dean back while Sam pulled me away with ease, still lunging at Dean.

"Screw you, Dean. Screw you! You can never just say 'Thank you' and be done with it."

"I don't have to thank you for anything. All you do is leave your family. You just leave the people that love you the most."

"Really? Sounds like I someone I know!" I screamed, clawing at Sam's arm which was tight around my waist.

"Yeah, it sounds like dad!"

"No!" I snarled. "It sounds like you Dean. It sounds like you pulling that stupid hell stunt or going to the cross road demon just because I was stupid enough—"

"Oh, yeah, sure, Max!" He stood up straight, the muscles in his arms tense.

"Shut up the both of you!" Bobby screamed, breathing heavily. "Get yourselves together, you idjits!"

"This is not your fight, Bobby." I swallowed a hard lump. "That's it…that's it. I'm gone." I started walking up to my room.

"Come back here, Max. You're not leaving."

"Watch me, Dean."

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**Thank you all for the wonderful summer! I owe it all to you! Hope you like this chapter :) Have a grand day!**


	26. Don't Stop Me Now

**Wow, I'm so happy a lot of you liked the last chapter! I hope this new one can do it justice :) Please read and review!**

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"Come on Max. Please don't leave." Sam walked backwards, his arms outstretched. "He didn't mean it. You know Dean." I shoved past him, throwing my jacket and paratrooper's rucksack into the backseat. Bobby was shouting at Dean inside, watching Sam and Adam trying to convince me to stay.

"Max, come on…think about this rationally." Adam begged, standing in front of the driver's door to the Charger. "Sam and I—Well, I know that _I _need you. And, hell, maybe Sam and Dean need you too. If not for Dean, stay for me and Sam and Bobby. Please." I smiled sadly at Adam…I was definitely the ugly duckling in the family.

"Sorry, kid." I slid into the Charger, starting the engine up and rolling down the windows as Pink Floyd began.

_So, so you think you can tell Heaven from Hell, blue skies from pain… And did they get you to trade your heroes for ghosts? And did you exchange a walk on part in the war for a lead role in a cage? How I wish, how I wish you were here. We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year, running over the same old ground. What have we found? The same old fears. Wish you were here._

"Max…" I looked up and saw tears in Sam's eyes. My heart broke at the sight of my little brother. The little brother I used to help do homework or tuck into bed or take care of when he was sick. Then I saw my other brother, the brother I had no idea existed, and even though my heart went out to them I was still adamant.

"I'll, uh, see you guys soon. Remember to eat your vegetables." I smiled, trying to break the thin sheet of tension that had settled like ice. I pulled out of the car graveyard, pondering if I should truly go back and make peace with Dean. If Dean really wanted there to be a calm sea between us then he wouldn't have let me leave, wouldn't he of? I had just merged onto the highway when I was struck deaf by the sound of an ear piercing trunk horn. I tried stepping on the accelerator but it was too late. My neck snapped back and I felt a hand on upper arm before I had time to remember anything else.

_Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep._

Damn, what an obnoxious, familiar noise. What a sickening, familiar stench. My stomach sank when I felt a rough, calloused hand slip into mine. I felt water droplets fall against my wrist and lips pressed against my knuckles. I was too exhausted to open my eyes or even move. I mentally shrank into the pillow, wanting to filter out the voice that was now speaking to me.

"I'm sorry I couldn't help you, Maxine." His voice was gruff and I wanted so much to look into his eyes and cry. I wanted my father but I knew he wasn't there…not for real.


	27. I Can't Fight This Feeling Anymore

**Alright, finally a chapter about Sam and Max's relationship! I hope you like it! Tell me what you think!**

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Sam's POV

"How's she doing, Dean?" I asked, nearly choking on my whisper. She was lying so still on the hospital bed, minor bruises all along her pale face. Adam stood emotionless beside me; his hands plunged into his jacket. We all stood around the bed, just waiting for her to open her eyes and curse and tell us to stop staring at her funny or she'd shove her foot so far up our asses that we'd be seeing doubles for months. Her threats never failed to make me smile. Dean didn't answer; he just sat beside her and tried hiding his red eyes with his hand. Max had the effect on him. And it didn't help that they had just had a huge argument.

"Can you guys just leave?" Dean said finally.

"Yeah, sure," I walked out of the room, silently sitting in the empty sitting room, watching nurses and doctors and visitors bumble through the halls as if they had nothing to lose. Adam and Bobby eventually sat near me, none of us saying a word at the moment.

"She'll be okay, Sam," Bobby said reassuringly. "Cas fixed her up with his angel mojo."

"I know, Bobby. I'm just afraid of the hell that's gonna be unleashed when she sees the Charger."

"Balls!" The Charger was a wreck. It was nearly as bad as the Impala after that demon bashed into it with a truck. Yeah, she was going to be super pissed. Dean would fix the damn thing up though, he loved her like that.

You know, over the years I figured, due to Max's secluded nature, that she was suffering from middle-child syndrome. She was always the loner of the family, never had very many friends—not that we could afford any while growing up—she was also maintained a quick loss of interest in things, negative outlook on life, half-assing, and indecisiveness. Nowadays, she was more like a straight arrow: she always had a plan, always knew what she was doing, but she was just a bit more emotional these days. It seemed that hell was definitely catching up to her. I would hear her crying late at night, her ugly sobs were easy to hear through the thin walls. She never cried, she was never the sharing-caring type…that was what scared me the most. Max was a typical Marine—rough around the edges but she meant well inside.

We weren't totally different, Max and I, we had a few good laughs back when we were younger. She'd always managed to make being cooped up in a dirty motel room fun. She'd read me all these cool books, she'd even do the voices along with it. I remember leaning against her shoulder, looking down at the pictures that were sprinkled around the pages, concentrating more on the graceful sketches then her voice. I regret that now, I've forgotten what her voice sounded like. She used to read _The Chronicles of Narnia _or adventure books like _Treasure Island _and _The Lord of the Rings_. And just when I thought nothing could get worse—when I thought that she'd jumped out of the fire and into the cooking pan—Dean came out, rubbing his eyes.

"She's awake. But the doc wants one person at a time. Just 'cause she's in bed doesn't mean she isn't as pissed off as a mother…nearly ripped my head off for putting her in the hospital." I stood, waiting to see if Adam or Bobby liked to go. "Hey, be careful, Sammy." I nodded.

"Hey, Smokey." Max smiled, waving her hand slightly when I walked in. "Tell me my baby's okay." I smiled, kissing her forehead and sitting on the chair beside the bed. "Good God, Sammy, I'm not dying."

"I know, I just missed you is all. Are you and Dean on the same page now?"

"You can say that. I am so drugged up right now." She laughed, patting my face. The truth was that when Max died, Dean was released from his deal with the crossroads demon—courtesy of Crowley, I guess.

"You're always the best when you're on drugs. Hey, you still have that ring I gave you." I held up her right hand, admiring the silver ring I had fondly given her for her sixteenth birthday.

"Sure beats the box of condoms Dean gave me." I near to died laughing, recalling the disgusted look on Max's face when she had opened Dean's present so long ago. "You okay, Sam?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Please don't ever leave like that again, Max."

"I won't Sam. I swear I won't."

"Dean, uh, was the one who carried you out of the flames."

"Yeah, I know, and I'm gonna whoop his ass for that…but, seriously, Sam, what's up with the Charger?" I got the hell out of there as fast as I could, telling Bobby that she wanted to see him.

"Does she know?" Adam asked, referring to Max's knowledge of the busted up car.

"She will." I said, sitting between my brothers. There was a loud sob that came from Max's room. Bobby ran out, telling Adam that it was his turn to see her.

"What happened?" Dean asked.

"All hell broke loose, that's what happened. We better get her sedated before they let her loose."

"Two aspirins outta do it." I suggested, remembering the time when we were teenagers and Max went off into a giggle fest after she'd taken two aspirins…yeah, she passed out under the back seat of the Impala an hour later.

"Aspirins it is!" Dean chuckled, patting his pockets for his keys so he could go out to the drug store.

"So, how about we go and celebrate?" Max suggested, walking toward the Impala with a skip in her step, temporarily forgetting the ill fate of her Charger. Dean and I shared a smile. "I don't know about you two but I want to get drunk as hell!"

"I think it's the drugs talking." Adam smiled, patting her back

"Poppycock!" When did she ever say that? She must really be high. "I'm as fit as a fiddle. I just need a drink, that's all. Come on, Dean." She leaned against the Impala, putting on a pouty, puppy dog face.

"It's ten in the morning, monkee…alright, just take someone with you."

"Who?" Dean smiled, having his wicked plan already set out before him.


	28. Little Wonders

Max's POV

I woke up with a hell of a headache. I've had some bad headaches before but now my temples were throbbing and I felt sort of lightheaded. I uneasily found my feet and looked around Bobby's living room. Where was everyone? The sun was shining brightly, taunting me with its happy rays. There was some banging from the garage outside. Looking out the kitchen window, I saw Bobby walking about, trying to find the correct tools. At that point, I just needed to talk to someone and try to nurse this hangover.

"Oh shit," My jaw fell open at the sight of the Charger. He was one big mess. The windows were busted, the rims were bent, the paint was scratched up beyond noticeability, and the trunk looked like an elephant look a crap on it.

"How's that hangover, Maxine?" Bobby asked, wiping his hands on a dirty, greasy cloth. I put my left hand to my forehead, searching for a fever when Bobby's eyes widened. "What the hell is that, girl?"

"What is what—Mother of God!" I screamed, clutching my hand. Dean nearly hit his head on the car frame and rolled out from under the Charger engine in a hurry. Sam and Adam sprinted into the garage, sawed off shotguns in their hands. "Take it off!" I held my ringed hand toward my brothers, refusing to look at the wedding band on my ring finger.

"Who'd you get married to?" Adam asked innocently, watching Sam trying to twist the ring off my finger gently.

"Does it look like I friggen' know, Adam?!" I shouted, almost about to cry when Dean was off laughing into his arm a few feet away. "I was so wasted last night. Maybe Ash'll know…" I gasped, patting my side for my phone. I dialed the Roadhouse. Oh, my God, what if I married Ash?!

"Harvelle's Roadhouse—"

"Jo, what the hell happened to me last night?"

"Max, you've done some crazy shit," I could hear the laugh in her voice. "but I can't believe you married—" My mind went blank in panic and disbelief.

"Oh, my God," I stared wide-eyed at Dean, my brothers and Bobby curious to know what Jo had said. "Thanks, Jo." I mumbled before shutting the phone, cursing myself over and over again while hitting my forehead on Sam's rock hard biceps.

"What happened?" Bobby demanded.

"I can't believe I married your boyfriend, Dean." I cried, clawing my scalp with my nails. "That is like _way _against the bro code, man."

"You married Castiel?" Sam asked, thrusting his thumb behind his shoulder. I choked on my spit, feeling all that tequila from last night coming up. I sprinted to the closest patch of grass before puking my guts out. Adam held my hair while Bobby rubbed my back and Sam kept telling me it was going to be alright.

"Holy shit!" I gasped, clutching my aching torso in agony. Dean came up with a bottle of water, slapping the small of my back which made me cringe in pain. I wavered a moment, rinsing out my mouth and spitting the water out into the grass. "Of all the fudged up things that I've done—" I took one step forward before fall straight on my face.

"Alright, monkee," Dean hauled me over his shoulder and carried me into the house, Sam, Adam, and Bobby following close behind. Once I was set on my feet in the kitchen I ran to the closest bathroom, heaving and groaning out another round of disgusting food and alcohol.

"Max, you okay?" Adam asked, standing at the doorway, the others looking over his shoulder.

"Hey, Max, just think of Marilyn Manson tootin' his own horn."

"I hate you, Dean." Tears seeped out of the corners of my eyes. I stood doubled over the toilet till I was sure my stomach was empty and I was only spitting out the nasty saliva. I rinsed my mouth once again in the sink and leaned against the wall exhausted, admiring the sapphire stone set in a Celtic styled silver twist. "Wow, it's actually really nice." I was just wondering how the hell Castiel knew my birthstone.

"Do you remember anything from last night?" Sam asked, as I collapsed on the couch.

"Nope," I mumbled into Adam's shoulders, my eyes tightly shut. Dean kicked my foot, making me scoot over on the couch so he could sit down with a beer. "Fix this, Dean." I snuggled against my youngest brother's side, making him a bit uncomfortable.

"I just can't wait to see Cas." Dean laughed, sipping at his beer. I resented him for sending Cas with me last night, but Dean trusted him so I guess it wasn't entirely a prank. But, oh, what a sight that would be! To see a hungover angel! Makes me wonder.


	29. Strangers in the Night

Castiel was leaning heavily against the wall, his eyelids drooping in exhaustion. I kinda felt sorry for him, but I was too upset to say anything. I'd always been careful when it came to drinking but I couldn't remember one damn thing from last night. Please don't judge, I was high. And when I am high I am not to be given the responsibility of my actions—not that I go off a bongo all the time.

"Castiel." I finally said, still sitting between Adam and Dean.

"Yes, Maxine?"

"What happened last night?"

"We found a liquor store,"

"And?"

"And we drank it!"

"No need to get so snappy." I tossed two ibuprofens (at 200mg each) down my throat. Sam grabbed the bottle before I took two more. By the time I was thirteen, I was taking almost two 500mg tablets every time my head started to ache.

"Max, drugs aren't the answer to everything."

"You're right, Sam. Smirnoff's are, but look what it's gotten me into." I snatched the white container away from him and protectively held it.

"You sound just like me," Dean chuckled. I dislocated my jaw in annoyance, wanting to sock him right in the gut and watch him choke on the beer he was still working on.

"You two idjits better work this out and soon too, please." Bobby said gruffly, adjusting his hat before setting off to fix the Charger, followed shortly by Dean. I took my older brother's spot on the couch, allowing Adam to scuttle off before I got too emotional.

"Max?"

"What, Sam?"

"Withdrawal is not the answer."

"Shut up." I chucked the ibuprofen at him. He ducked, sending the container tumbling into a bowlful of talismans. "Leave me alone to die, Smokey."

"Okay, call me if you need me." And with that, Sam left me alone with Cas.

"How's your head?" My words came out awkward and strained. I was talking to my husband.

"I feel like I am about to explode...it is quite vindicating." Castiel replied, walking aimlessly about the room, looking for somewhere to sit.

"Ditto." What the hell was I supposed to say? At this point I was way out of my comfort zone. Cas finally found Bobby's desk chair and nearly fell off because he didn't know it had wheels to it. "Castiel, just because we're…you know…doesn't mean—"

"Maxine, I have no reason to lie to you. You are an abomination and I have no feelings for you whatsoever."

"Gee, thanks…Look, I've never wanted a family, Cas. Don't say anything, just shut up and listen. I don't trust men—or male angels. I mean, if there are guys out there like Dean then no guy should be trusted. I mean, you would expect him to start respecting women. You know, they are probably some guys' sister and if Dean wouldn't want some asshole to do what he does to other girls to me then why does he do what he does to other girls? Does that make sense? Castiel are you listening to me?" I went up to nudge him, maybe even punch him in the arm—he was my husband after all—but, Castiel was sprawled over the chair sleeping like a baby in a trench coat. He looked quite sweet to be honest. I walked out of the house and back to the small shooting range where Sam and Adam were.

"How's Castiel?" Adam asked, reloading the 202 slowly. I snatched the cartridge from his hands while quickly sliding the bullets inside.

"He passed out halfway through my monologue." I slammed the cartridge into the gun and shot the scrap metal set at fifty yards. "The sighting is off, Sam." I handed the rifle to my brother watching him try to readjust the small metal sight above the nozzle. After thirty seconds of impatience, I took the light weapon away and roughly tried finding another way to shoot straight. I was still so pissed that that damned angel fell asleep through my monologue…I was gonna give him serious hell for it.

Just then Crowley appeared to the side, sending me aiming for him. He put his hands up in surrender, smirking as he walked forward, the Colt in his hand. I lowered the rifle and glared at his cocky disposition.

"You look terrible." He noted.

"Don't you know how to make a girl feel wonderful."

"I've brought the Colt back."

"No shit," I raised my eyebrows, trying to be as sarcastic and annoying as I possibly could.

"They are coming for Michael's vessel, Miss Winchester. They are coming for Adam."

"Who?" Sam asked, stepping between me and Crowley.

"The leviathan, of course. And there is no stopping them from getting what they want."


	30. Sweet Child 'O Mine

Adam was pensive and silent as he sat on the kitchen chair in Bobby's humble abode, staring out of the window and into the darkening skies. I felt sorry for the kid. I glanced at him from time to time, hating the way he looked so helpless at the news that was poured onto his head. It was as if he hadn't been through enough just to have this over his head. His eyes were empty yet I could tell that his heart was filled with distress. My phone suddenly vibrated in my pocket. I walked toward the counter to place my cup filled with whiskey down, my wedding ring clinking against the glass, and I fished out my phone. I glanced over at Dean and Sam, just to make sure they weren't pulling a prank on me—they've done it so many times before. My brothers were earnestly wrapped up in the dry, dusty text of some old books in the study room, across from where I stood. Flipping open my phone, I absently opened the text message I had received.

I blinked; hoping what I was rereading over and over again wasn't real.

"What's wrong? Whoa," I jumped at Sam's voice beside my ear. He steadied my quivering body, looking over my shoulder and down at the screen. "Coordinates? From who?" Dean had just walked over, his face now twisted in ample curiosity but his mouth firmly shut.

"Dad," I whispered, cringing when my older brother snatched the phone out of my fingers and glaring at the set of numbers on the screen. Adam and Bobby came over quickly, unsure as to what to think.

"I'll find out where the coordinates lead." Sam declared, making a quick beeline for his laptop.

"I know what you'll find, Sam." I choked under Dean's stern gaze. "It was where I left you and dad, Dean."

*March 2002*

"Dad," I followed my father, begging him to stop and hear me out as he meandered through the rinky dink motel room. "Dad, the patterns are as clear as day. Every ten years, exactly three people die. The deaths are all spread out so the police are too stupid to notice but it's all in one town. It all happens in the same town. Dad, maybe I could—"

"No, Maxine! I said no!" He snapped while rubbing his eyes and glaring in frustration as he popped open a beer, trying to quell his exhaustion. I opened my mouth to protest but the desperate need to escape was quite evident on his face.

"Okay Dad." I mumbled, shutting the book and sitting down on the floor in front of the television. Dean had the remote, so I forced myself to watch _South Park_.

_"Oh, my God! They killed Kenny. You bastards!" _Dad chuckled, not even paying attention to the screen but listening to the dialogue anyway. Everything had changed since Sam had left just weeks before. Dean was quiet, barely speaking nor smiling. That really got me. I leaned against the bed that my brother was reclining on, his face blank.

"Hey," I reached up, nudging him slightly. "you wanna play cards?" I pulled out the worn Bicycle deck from my back pocket, folding out the tattered, dog-eared corners. Dean shook his head, not taking his eyes off the television.

The world outside of the windows was dark and dismal that night. I could hear the owls hooting in the trees opposite the parking lot just outside of the door. It was hours before I was totally sure that my father was asleep. All hunters were light sleepers so I was excruciatingly careful not to make a sound while I pulled on my boots, shouldered my knapsack, and slid out of the room. I had called Bobby earlier that evening, knowing he'd be right over if I asked him to. Sure enough, Bobby Singer was leaning against some rusty truck in the dark side of the shadowed parking lot.

"Thanks for coming, Bobby." I gave him a half hug, inhaling the aroma of alcohol and old books.

"Hey, anything for you, pumpkin," He replied, watching me climb into the passenger's seat and shoving the bagful of weapons in my lap. "You sure your old man's okay with this?" I nodded, hoping my eyes would not give away my deceptive motives. Bobby started the engine and pulled out onto the main road.

"I'm guessing you didn't tell your dad."

"Nope," I stated abruptly, hoping he wouldn't turn around and hand me over to my father. He didn't. "I have to do this Bobby. It's the only way I can prove myself to him."

"You don't have to prove diddly squat, girl!"

"Don't I?" I countered, snapping my head to see Bobby's facial expression. He looked surprised, almost unbelieving. "I have to do this, Bobby, if not for my father, than for myself."

"That's real heartwarming, pumpkin, but that ain't gonna help with anything."

"Have a little faith, Mr. Singer." I smiled, afraid of what I was unsure about.

About fifteen minutes later, Bobby pulled onto the side of the road near the state park. I hurried out into the humid air, pulling out the rounds of silver bullets from a cardboard carton. Bobby watched fervently as I loaded the cartridge, tucking the loaded gun into my belt. I swallowed a hard lump that was lodged in my throat. Due to the ever changing appearance of this creature I had to be doubly careful. It was said that this beast was the bodyguard of the Norse god Odin. It was a horrendous creature, mauled by its own psychopathic lust for blood and warfare. It sent a shiver down my spine at the very thought of coming face to face with its black eyes, as King Harald Fairhair of Norway had mentioned in his court diary which dated back to the year 916.

_Those intrepid heroes, how are they treated,_

_Those who wade out into battle?_

_Wolf-skinned they are called. _

_Red with blood are their spears when they come to fight._

_The prince in his wisdom puts trust in such men_

_Who hack through enemy shields._

Such was the readings that taunted me from afar. I motioned to Bobby to follow me into the dense forest glades, armed only with ten rounds of ammunition and a feeble flashlight. I stalked my way through the dew stained blades of grass in search for a man with wolf-like proportions.

A branch snapped in the brushes to my left.

The beam of light from my torch fell upon the doe eyed glaze of a short fawn. It stopped short under the attention which was given, its front legs curved half in the air and the muscles in its midriff coiling before bounding into the darkness. I wiped away the sweat that had formed on my brow.

"Be careful, girl." Bobby warned, walking ahead of me, his rifle resting at ready in the crook of his arm.

Just then, a loud growl emanated from the trees behind me. I spun around to find that I was staring into blackness. It was Bobby's frantic shouting which brought me back to reality. A large beast was hovering over the man I considered a father. It was covered in a coarse, wolf-like pelt. The dull breastplate that covered its torso was stained with blood as was the hefty sword it held in its hand.

"Hey!" I screamed, trying to draw its attention off of Bobby. I regretted doing so when it's black, animal like eyes turned to me. The ability to breath and move was taken from me when I heard its heavy footsteps coming closer and closer to me. I raised my gun taking aim at the creature's neck. The bullet ricocheted off its chainmail. It drew closer before the adrenaline in my body quickly kicked in.

I stumbled backwards, losing my footing on the corpse of its latest victim, a sweet librarian named Edith Praff. Closing my eyes to escape the pain that was about to ensue, I squeezed the trigger. There was a loud thump at my feet and I felt a pair of large hands pulling me up. I smelt the familiar smell of my father's leather jacket.

*present*

I exhaled, still in the safe securities of Bobby's home with my brothers and the man I now called father. They were watching me expectantly. I felt a pang of electricity spiraling through the bone between my ankle and my knee. Wincing, I leaned against the counter, gasping when the whiskey I had set down spilled all over the floor. Bobby was quick to get a raggedy dish cloth and mopped up the mess. I apologized over and over again, thoroughly feeling guilty.

"I—I'm sorry, Bobby." I repeated.

"Max, relax." Sam insisted, looking down into my eyes. "It's okay."

"This is a job." I stated, shyly pulling away from the eyes of my brothers and turning to Adam. "Get your crap, kid, you're coming with me."


	31. Murder By Numbers

"Be careful, Maxine." I smirked, stuffing my clothing in my bag before tossing it over my shoulder while glancing at Castiel's serious face.

"Why, blue eyes, I never thought you cared." He caught my elbow just as I was about to turn away, his grip was surprisingly strong.

"You won't like what you find."

"What're you talking about, Cas?"

"You're looking for your father, Maxine, and he's not there—not for real." The angel growled near my face, his low whisper startled me just as much as the fury in his eyes. I pulled rudely out of his grasp, glaring back at him for revealing my dark and deep desires. I had hoped that it really was my father. I had hoped that this was some sort of divine intervention—a second chance from God—that allowed me to make amends with John Winchester. I resented Castiel for telling me other-wise. I stomped down the old, creaky stairs, nearly tackling Adam in my hurry.

"Sorry, kid. You got your stuff?" He nodded, lifting up a black backpack. Bobby walked in, tossing me a set of car keys which I caught with one hand easily.

"Learn that in the Marines, pumpkin?" I grinned in answer, inspecting the odd shaped keys that were cold in the palm of my hand.

"Mustang Sally, think you better slow your mustang down." I sang in a low voice, much like Wilson Pickett had. Sam and Dean hurried into the foyer, huddling away from the icy pelts of rain that drenched their shoulders and left sparking droplets on their hair.

"You two ready?" Dean asked, watching Cas slump down the stairs.

"Yeah," I murmured, refusing to look at the angel who stood close behind me, his telepathic-like eye messages warning me not to do anything stupid. "Let's just get out of here."

I sped down the empty mountain roads in a dark gray mustang—courtesy of Bobby due to the Charger being out of action for the time being. The Impala wasn't too far behind with Sam and Dean. Adam glanced at me often, wondering if I'd crash into a tree or something but I put all my concentration on the winding roads before me.

"How're you holding up?" I asked, making a sharp turn. Adam shrugged.

"Considerably well."

"Nothing's gonna happen to you kid, I promise."

"Look, I know I'll never be considered one of you Winchesters."

"Kid, come on," I breathed, rolling my eyes. "no matter what you think, you're still family, deeper than bone. And if you fall than I'm sure as hell gonna catch you. Deep, yes, I know." He chuckled, staring out of the window. "And Dean and Sam…they act like a bunch of hardasses but they really aren't. We're all bitter in our own way, and we don't want this life for you. I mean, we've all tried our hand at a normal life. Sam tried Jess, Dean tried Lisa…I tried college. But it always comes back to this," I went on, ignoring his questioning gaze. "and if there was any way that I could take this all away then I would."

*March 2002*

I sat quietly beside my father as we drove back to the motel, Bobby's car following. I would look at my dad every few minutes, hoping his cold focus on the warm road outside had changed, but it hadn't. I had a few minor bruises—nothing terribly serious but that was enough to have John Winchester madder than hell. I was a twenty one year old woman for God's sake! He had to let me get out into this world by myself or I'd never learn. We pulled into the motel parking lot, the door of the Impala groaning loudly as my father and I stepped out into the humid air. Dean was waiting at the steps, his hands stuff deep into his pockets and a scowl across his face.

"Don't beat on her too hard, John. She did a helluva job back there." Bobby walked up from his car and tried defending me, but I knew it was lost cause.

"Don't tell me how to raise my kid, Singer." Papa Winchester snapped. "Max, get your ass inside. Dean! Clean her up!"

"What did I miss?" I tried joking, yet the look on Dean's face told me that I was in deep shit on his side too. "Well, aren't we a butt load of ribbons and giggles."

"Get the hell inside, Max." My brother grabbed my bag and shoved me inside of the motel room. "What the hell were you thinking?! You could have gotten the hell beat out of you." He growled.

"Don't give me that patronizing crap, Dean." I shot back. "I just did what you and dad didn't have the balls to do. I went the extra mile to make sure what's left of our family stays together—"

"What the hell is all this noise?" Our dad slammed the hotel door shut, a sure sign that my only supporter was on his way to South Dakota. "Dean, take the Impala on a gas run. I have to talk to your sister." My brother did as he was told. He was always that sickening good little soldier who did everything daddy told him to.

My father angrily walked about the room for a good twenty minutes. I, not really in the mood for his skin deep anger, took an extra-long shower before deciding to myself that it was high time that I faced my father like a real Winchester. Dean still wasn't back by the time I came out of the bathroom in fresh, warm clothing and pink bruises. Dad sat on the couch, a beer bottle in his hand and a grim look of contemplation on his face. I felt sorry that I had gone off now. The man was holding on to the edge of a great cliff with the rocks of misery and resentment down below.

"Sit down." He ordered. I perched myself on the opposite end of the couch, hugging the quaintly embroidered pillow against my chest. "You disobeyed a direct order, Maxine." My stomach swelled up in tension. John Winchester never asked you if you knew what you had done was wrong, he told you straight out, making you feel guilty and overall worthless. "Look at me when I'm talking to you." With every possible inch of patience I could muster I looked into my father's green eyes, trying my hardest not to let all that pent up anger and irritation show in my facial expressions.

"Yes, sir." I replied, my chin high and defiant. Stubbornness ran in the family, so jokes on him, I scoffed inwardly.

"You never, ever disobey a direct order, Maxine. Got it?" I nodded. "You're on a week's suspension for your infractions." Spoken just like a true military man.

I made up my mind the next day. I wasn't going to take this crap anymore. If my father found himself so high and mighty then he could do jobs without me. My dad grabbed a beer from the mini fridge near the television set and sunk into the bed across from me. Dean had bought three six packs yesterday.

"Where's Dean?" He asked, glancing at me folding my limited array of clothing and packing them into my rucksack.

"I sent him on a faulty lead. I didn't want him here for this."

"What the hell are you talking about?" I adjusted the straps on my backpack and tossed my coat on the crook of my arm.

"I'm leaving dad."

"You're not going anywhere, Maxine." As I started for the door, he stood quickly, blocking my way with his body. Despite my growing fears, I met my father's eyes.

"I've been accepted into one of the best colleges in the country."

"Which one?" He sneered.

"MIT."

"Ha!" John Winchester laughed but stopped short at my serious face. "You're breaking my heart, Mary."

"I'm Max. And you broke my heart the day you closed that door on Sam."

*Present*

Adam was sleeping soundly against the door and I shivered in the cold air that stuffed the car due to the rain that continued to pour outside. I was just about to turn on the heat when I jumped at the sight of Crowley in the back seat.

"Would you stop scaring me like that?" I hissed, trying not to wake my youngest brother.

"You should have listened to your husband, Miss Winchester. Where you're going you'll only find pain and heartache." I eyed his dark disposition from the rear view mirror.

"Have you come to finally hand over the Colt?" Crowley grinned, already holding up the gun. He strained forward so his chin rested in upholstery next to my ear, sliding the Colt onto my lap.

"You're going to be the death of everyone you love, Miss Winchester. Your dear Dean, Sam, Bobby…_Adam_. You really think that it was a coincidence that the leviathans are out for him? You let them out of the cage during your trip down under. Every person who dies at their hands has you to thank." I snapped back to find that I was alone, the Colt still on my lap.

I chewed at my bottom lip, all forms of resentment cascading through the empty interior of my broken body. I pulled over under the first bridge I could find before jumping out and closing the door softly so I wouldn't wake Adam. I pinched myself to tell myself that I had to get myself together. The headlights of the Impala blinded me just as I slid to the ground, bringing my knees against my chest as I gasped out heavy, ugly sobs. Sam stepped out of the driver's side and ran at me full speed; his landing was so heavy that the gravel sprayed at my feet. My little brother wrapped his large, warm arms around me and rocked me back and forth like I was a child.

"This is all my fault, Sam!" I coughed, refusing to be comforted by his safe embrace. "I let the leviathan out. Because of me all your lives are on the line. I am so sorry!"

"Shh, Max, it'll be okay! We're going to be alright. Nothing's going to happen to anyone of us. I swear." I leaned my body weight against Sam's shoulder, trying to cry myself to death. It was the only thing I wanted right now. Life didn't seem to be worth living.

There was a loud clank of metal against metal. Sam and I jumped up just as we saw Adam struggling in the arms of a large beast I was about to fire a few rounds out of my sawed off but Sam lowered my aim quickly.

"You might hit him." Panic plagued my heart as I followed my brother to the Impala, hating that sinking feeling you get when you realize that a demon was telling the truth.

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**I am terrible sorry that I seem to have dragged this story out. I feel like people are getting uninterested. And I didn't mean to make it so long. **


	32. Start Wearing Purple for Me

**Hello everyone! I actually really like this chapter and I hope you do too! All emotions are permitted and flame-y reviews are not frowned upon. Anyway, hope you like this chapter!**

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"What was that thing, Max?!" Sam cried as I grabbed the keys from the ignition of the Impala and popped open the trunk as fast as I could. Dean was wide awake now from his nap in the back seat and threw me a small pouch filled with silver bullets as soon as I said,

"Berserker."

"What the hell is a berserker?" Sam continued, hounding me with questions as I furiously tried blocking out his voice so I could focus on saving Adam.

"It's a bitch, that's what it is, Sam!" I shouted, sending him reeling a few steps back. I hide the Colt in a deep nook in the Impala and tucked my gun into the small of my back. "What are you doing, Dean?" I asked as I saw that Dean was loading a shot gun, his lips pursed in concentration. Dean looked up.

"You're not going by yourself." He declared.

"You two don't know how to handle this thing, Dean." I growled, itching with anticipation as to the fate of Adam. "And there is no way in hell that I'm losing all three of my brothers in one night. You better stay put and if I'm not back in twenty minutes than hightail your asses back to Bobby's. You hearing me?"

"If you don't come back in twenty minutes we're coming after you." Dean snapped stubbornly.

"I'm not going to argue with you." I groaned.

"Good,"

"I'm not joking, Dean."

"I'm not laughing, Max." Sam quietly watched us arguing. I grit my teeth and nodded. Damn, Dean was a pain in my ass.

"Fine," I consented. "remember, silver bullet to the neck."

I started jogging toward the trees, speeding up into a sprint as I began working with the rise and fall of the forest floor which made me feel invincible. Though the clouds hung low in a white mist over the dew stained leaves, I could spot the large tracks of the wolf-like creature as clear as day. I used to run in the woods when I was in college. It was just during my highest highs. I loved the woods. I love nature with all my heart, especially trees which were the keepers of wisdom and strength in this barren world.

*August 2004*

"'Of course, it is likely enough, my friends, that we are going to our doom: the last march of the Ents. But if we stayed at home and did nothing, doom would find us anyway, sooner or later. That thought has long been growing in our hearts; and that is why we are marching now. It was not a hasty resolve. Now at least the last march of the Ents may be worth a song. Aye, we may help the other peoples before we pass away.'" I leaned against my friend's back, listening to him reading out loud from _The Two Towers_.

"Do you really think that the evil in Middle Earth would reach them anyway?" I asked, looking up at the heads of the trees which danced in the soft breeze that surrounded the world around us.

"Of course I do, Max. You can't have good without evil, right?" Ash turned around to face me, his hair cropped and sticking up slightly because of the Boston wind.

"It's kinda sad to think about." I chuckled bitterly to myself, leaning into Ash's chest, allowing him to wrap his arms around my body. "No matter where you go or what good you do, you're always in harm's way. What's it going to take to separate ourselves from others? In a deck of cards, you've got the kings, the queens, the jacks…the aces, then a mindless rabble of numbers—a bunch of souls with big dreams but nowhere to go. They're just stuck in one place. They can't go anywhere. They can't do anything extraordinary. Now, being the Joker—being a freak—is the only option we have. We change the game yet we're still on the bottom of the deck. Why is that?"

"Maybe we just gotta wake up, Max. Maybe we just gotta accept this world for what it is. Maybe, once we realize that our innocence is gone, we wake up from this apathetic slumber. Maybe reality is the illusion. Society is all the sights, sounds, tastes, and smells that surround us, that persuade our point of view, if we let it." I craned my neck back to look into Ash's hazel eyes.

"What if I don't let it?" Ash smiled, leaning over to kiss me gently before whispering,

"'If all the world hated you and believed you wicked, while your own conscience approved of you and absolved you from guilt, you would not be without friends.'"

*present*

I caught sight of a large, abandoned warehouse just after the edge of the tree line. Crouching down on my ankles behind a bush, I loaded the silver bullets into the magazine. From all my military experience with sniper work, as well as the keen training from my father, I hollowed out my heaving breathing so I could control the panting with a shallow, silent breath.

"It was the heat of the moment…it was the heat of the moment." My fingers shook uncontrollably as I sang to myself to relax.

I stalked toward the grey building, ducking under the busted windows and the mold until I reached an unlocked door. If dad were with me, he would have told me to stay near the wall but I was Dean's sister and I walked right into the open—right where I knew the leviathan wanted me. A lamp was suddenly lit above my head, illuminating the shadows that held me captive in the beam of light.

"Come out and fight me, you hairy bastard!" I shouted, listening with a sadistic pleasure when I heard my voice echo to the four corners of the room.

"A pretty girl with a dirty mouth is almost enough to make a meat suit get all gooey, don't you think?" A lean man in a black tuxedo came forward out of the darkness, his face handsome and sharp.

"Where's Adam? Where's my dad?"

"Oh, darling," The leviathan said sympathetically, twisted his mouth in to mock frown, and stepping into the light. "I, myself, was surprised to see how quickly it took you to hit the road for your daddy. But, your old man's still burning in hell."

"Shut up!" He put his hands up, as in surrender.

"Hey, you asked."

"Where's Adam then?"

"What is with you Winchesters? Don't you like a bit of foreplay?" I glared at him until he resented and called behind his shoulders. "Come on out, Chewy." A horrifying Berserker, dressed in scrape metal and animal skin just like the one I killed years back, came forward. It pulled Adam behind its feet, my brother's eyes were black, his face was bruised and he looked only half alive.

"You have me. Now, let him go." I ordered, praying that my steady voice would not fail me now. The leviathan walked a full circle around me, eying my face like a vulture.

"There's a higher power at work here, Maxine. You're not the only Winchester we want." He stopped his pace before me. "And when we want something we will take it with brute force." I smirked and leaned toward his face slightly.

"Keep your higher power, bitch. I married an angel." The leviathan shrieked as Castiel's middle and forefinger tapped its forehead, sending it back to hell.

"Are you alright?" Cas asked, his face still serious and emotionless. I nodded hastily eying the large beast as it realized that its master was dead, and it now had control over its actions.

"Get outta here, Cas." I warned as the Berserker threw Adam against the cold floor, running toward me with great speed and a maniacal roar. I gasped for air under the sheer weight of the monstrous mass of fur, trying to pull out the silver bowie knife tucked into my boot. With all my might, I plunged the blade into the creature's side. It howled and thrashed in pain.

I saw Sam and Dean burst through the metal doors to the large building just as two more Berserker appeared from the darkness. Berserker's usually work alone, which worried me. How many more were lurking just beyond reach? I squeezed out from under the heavy weight that lay dead on top of me and tossed Sam the gun that hadn't helped me. I wanted to comfort Adam who still lay on the ground but instead, I ran to the tall metal racks that lined the walls and searched for anything but the bowie knife in my hand to defend myself over such strength and agility. There was a loud burst from Dean's shotgun which took the head straight off one of the savage beasts. Another roar of defeat followed, sending my brothers—free of harm—toward Adam.

"Max!" Sam brought me out of my furious search. "Max, hurry!" I sprinted toward my brothers. There was a bomb strapped all over Adam's chest, any attempt the jacket was sure to detonate the explosive.

"Is there any way to get it off?" I asked, but Dean shook his head. Where was Cas when you needed him?

_…no matter what you think, you're still family, deeper than bone. And if you fall than I'm sure as hell gonna catch you…_

"Get…out of here." Adam whispered, tears streaming down his face. I turned to Dean and Sam, resolute as to my actions. The small red numbers read forty-five seconds.

"I'll stay with him. You two get the hell outta here."

"No, Max!" Dean screamed.

"Get outta here!" I shouted back, louder than he ever could. Sitting down beside Adam, I put an arm around his shoulders, glaring up at my brothers to scram.

"I love you Max." Sam whispered as Dean hurriedly pulled him toward the doors.

"You don't have to do this, Max." Adam choked, putting all his body weight against me as he was too weak to hold himself up. He was near to death because of me. If I was gone everything would be alright for Sam and Dean. I just knew it.

Seventeen seconds.

"Shh," I kissed his forehead. "You're still family, deeper than bone."

Fifteen seconds.

I felt two arms wrap around my waist and haul me to my feet, sending Adam falling against his back.

"No, Castiel! Please! Let me stay with him!" I screeched, flailing my arms to try to get out of the angels murderously tight grip. I saw Adam looking at me, his expression filled with longing and sadness, and his hand reaching out to me as the life slowly drained out of his icy blue eyes.

Four seconds.

"Cas, please!" I begged.

Two seconds.

Castiel set me on my feet and slammed his palm against my forehead just as I saw a bright white light erupt from Adam's chest.


	33. Take Me to the River

**I'm terribly sorry that this chapter is soo long. Have a wonderful weekend! **

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"Adam!" I shouted, only turning around to see a single light still on in a very familiar house located in a very familiar street. The night breeze was pleasent as I walked up the cobblestone to the whitewashed porch. I rang the doorbell and waited outside of the storm door so I could make a quick escape if I was mistaken. A dark haired man opened the front door, his eyebrows furrowed in concern when he caught sight of me.

"Dad?" He smiled, the white stubble peppered across his jaw in an infamous declaration of his old age. "Daddy?" My tears fell on his navy blue robe as I embraced him. "Daddy, I've missed you so much! I am so sorry about everything—everything I said. I didn't mean it."

"Honey," My dad rubbed my back, kissing my temple. "you were upset."

"I shouldn't have said anything. I shouldn't have left like that!"

"Max, your heart was broken. I understand."

"What?" I squeaked, stumbling back. My mind was racing in a million different directions.

"John? Who is it?" A blonde haired woman with sky blue eyes, stood at the top of the stairs in a gray sweater cardigan covering her white nightdress. Her head was cocked to the side as she came down the stairs, her arms tightly crossed against her chest and her eyes half awake.

"Mom?" I met her halfway up the stairs, pulling her into a strong embrace, squeezing her tiny body against me so that I could feel all that love I was so deprived of.

"Maxie, what's gotten into you?" She put a cool hand on my cheek just as a tear ran down my face. "Have you been drinking? You're burning up."

"No, mom, I swear I haven't. I was just so worried about you! Where's Dean and Sam?" I looked back at my dad who looked at me like I was bonkers. "What?"

"Honey, Sam's in California with Jess and Dean's at his apartment with Carmen." My father said while closing the front door.

"Who the hell is Carmen?"

"Wha—" My mother laughed, kissing my forehead as she led me down to where my father stood with a smile on his face. "Maxie, are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm right as rain, mom." That word, that endearing term one bestows upon their mothers, rolled off my tongue like honey.

"What are you doing here, baby? Not that we have a problem with you coming over at two in the morning." My dad asked, sitting at the kitchen table. There were pictures of Sam and Dean and I all over the walls and I wondered if this was what life would be like if we had been ignorant to the fact of supernatural things. "Max?"

"Yes," I looked up from a picture of my brothers and me together, happy and content.

"Max, what is wrong with you?" He didn't say this meanly; he was just as lost as I was, to be honest. I figured that I looked like I was about to cry so my mother broke in.

"You wanna stay here tonight?" I nodded silently, looking around for a corner or something to crash in.

"You two go to bed. I'll, uh, sleep on the couch. Just to keep you safe." My dad laughed before kissing me, his stubble hurting my skin just like it did when I was younger.

"My little girl," He smiled proudly. It took me by surprise; I'd never seen him so happy before. I was handed a blanket by my mother as I sat on a couch, rearranging the pillows.

"Goodnight, Maxie. I hope you'll be sober by the morning." She kissed my forehead again and I watched my parents, who were very much alive, walk back upstairs, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

"Cas, you really know how to save a girl." I smiled into the darkness, snuggling into the warm blanket that smelt like cinnamon and alcohol—a wonderful combination.

The next morning I got up just as the sun shadowed its way onto my face. I sat upright, rubbing my eyes, praying that I was still with my family in my childhood home in Kansas. I was. There was some rumbling in the kitchen and I saw my mother in blue jeans and a formfitting tan shirt, her sleeves pushed up to her elbows.

"'Morning, Maxie!" She grinned, handing me a cup of coffee. I took it absently, not knowing that I took coffee in the mornings, as she sat in the wing chair beside the couch. "You feeling better?"

"Yeah, mom, I feel just fine. Where's dad?"

"He figured that you needed something to make you feel better. He left about twenty minutes ago."

"Mom?"

"Yes?"

"When's Dean coming?"

"He should be coming soon, baby. He called, and Carmen's coming along too, so be nice this time."

"What happened last time?"

"Honey, you called her a 'whore.'"

"Yeah," I chuckled, sipping the coffee which tasted bitter and left an uncomfortable after taste on my tongue. "that sounds like me. Why'd I call her a whore?"

"I don't know, why did you?" I looked around the living room, noticing the pictures of me and a strange guy. I walked up at took the framed picture into my hands. "I'm sorry, I should have taken that down—" My mother looked over my shoulder as I observed the brown haired guy in a dark blue dress shirt, who had me in his arms.

"He's a looker, isn't he?" I said dreamily, obviously enchanted that I could manage to land a catch like him.

"To be honest, I hoped you wouldn't have broken up with him."

"Why?"

"He was a nice boy, Max. He was appropriate for your…temperament." I looked down at my sapphire ring, my mouth twisting into a smile when I remembered Castiel.

"Hey, mom?"

"Yes, Maxie?"

"This may sound crazy but, do you believe in the supernatural?" She cocked her head to the side in brief confusion before smiling warmly.

"Didn't I always tell you and your brothers that angels were always watching over you?"

"I don't mean just angels, mom. I mean, like, demons and stuff."

"I don't understand what you're asking."

"Nevermind, forget I said anything. I'm just glad to be home."

After I had gotten refreshed and had taken two full tours of the house, I walked downstairs just as my father bustled in with a pack of beer in his hand. He handed me a bottle, taking another for himself.

"Drink up, monkee!" I did as I was told, chugging the beer longer than my father could. "Damn! I bet you could beat your brother one of these days."

"I bet I could." I grinned, carefully making sure the bottle went into the recycling bin…I was a stickler for saving the polar bears. There was a slam of a car door out in the front, which sent me running into Dean's unsuspecting arms, a brown haired woman standing out of place beside the Impala.

"Wow, you're…in a good mood today." He said, without a smile, might I add, as I stepped toward Carmen.

"Hi, Carmen, it's so nice to see you again!" I hugged her as well, laughing goodheartedly at her surprised look. "Dude," I was talking to Dean now. "where's Cas? I swear, he's doing this just to mess with me."

"Max, who's Cass? What the hell are you talking about?" Dean snapped angrily.

"Oh," I stepped back at the hostility in his voice, where was that happy family I saw in the pictures? "I guess I'm still a bit tipsy. I mean, I just downed a whole beer."

"Look at you," He said sarcastically. "starting the day off with a bang…just like you do at night."

"What's that supposed to mean, Dean?"

"Hi!" My mother came out, kissing my brother and his girlfriend.

"Happy birthday, mom." Dean hugged her. It was her birthday? Wow, aren't I in a sticky situation? "I see Sam still isn't here."

"Well, he was quite adamant that he could get here himself."

"Leave it to Sam." Dean led Carmen toward the house, not giving me a second glance. A part of my heart collapsed then. Dean was everything to me and now, just because the bitch in me had lashed out against his pretty girl, he was ignoring me. It wasn't long till Sam relieved me, pulling in in a silver Prius. I nearly cried when I saw Jess' stepping out of the car, her expensive bag in her hand. She shyly returned my hug. I suppose she was scared that I would trash her like I apparently had Carmen. Sam also gave me a quick hug, leaving me standing outside alone while they all filed into the house. The corner of my mouth twitched as I forced myself not to cry. My father came out with a half empty beer. It was ironic, really. The man I hated and had so much conflict with in my other life was the one in which I took refugee now.

"Rough start, monkee?"

"Yeah," I mumbled, burying my hands deep into the pocket of my jeans.

"The boys'll get over it. Give 'em some time."

"Yeah," I repeated, scraping the heel of my shoes against the cobblestone walkway. "Hey, daddy, I'm gonna go out for a walk, maybe I'll stop for a Miller run while I'm at it. But don't worry, I'll be back in an hour or so, and I _will_ be sober."

"You better be monkee!" My dad laughed behind me as I walked down the sidewalk and towards Main Street.

I ended up not getting a drink till that night at a fancy restaurant for mom's birthday. I wore a decent black dress that went down to my knee and up to my neck, bits of lace showing out from the sleeveless cuts for my arms. Sam and Jess had just revealed that they were engaged, but I had thankfully blanked out at the part when the squeals were omitted.

"Max?" I snapped out of my thoughts to find that everyone was looking at me. I felt my face getting hot at all the attention.

"Congratulations," I grinned as if nothing was wrong. "I am so happy for you." Sam and Dean, and my mother and father shared a look. I quickly took a sip of the champagne that had mysteriously appeared before me, trying to find something to say. My father stepped in to my rescue, changing the subject to the topic of Sam's schooling to become a lawyer and such, which sent me into another round of daydreaming. Sam glanced at me every now and then, concern now etching his face as clear as day. I finally managed to excuse myself. I needed familiar air so badly that I stood out in a low balcony, staring up at the darkening sky.

"Come on, Cas, this isn't funny anymore. I just want to go home."

"Hey," Dean stood behind me, a bit annoyed. "who're you talking to?" I shrugged.

"Myself, I guess." I replied as he stood next to me, leaning against the stone parapet.

"Are you doing all this for attention, Max? Look, I know you were upset for breaking up with Dmitri but, for hell's sake! It was six months ago, and this whole thing," He waved his hand around my face. "is getting really old."

"Dmitri is such a nice name. He looked like a Dmitri." Dean groaned.

"What the hell is wrong with you? God, you are so damaged." Takes one to know one, huh?

"What happened to us, Dean? Where's that happy family I see in those pictures, huh? That is all I want, Dean. I just want to be happy again. I want to be happy with you and Sam and—"

"Well, we can't always have what we want, Max but you weren't thinking about that when you dissed my girlfriend."

"Whatever I said about her I'm so sorry. If I could take it back I sure as hell would, Dean. You gotta believe me. I was just angry and bitter."

"No, Max, you are angry and you are bitter. I can't believe you called her a—I'm happy with Carmen, Max. I love her and I am happy. I'm sorry if you aren't but you can't change my mind or my feelings for her."

"Wow, you sound like such a pansy." I regretted saying that. His jaw clenched up at his eyes burned furiously. I thought he would blow up any minute but he just went back inside. I had to get out of here, even if Cas wouldn't help me.

It took me a good twenty-three hours to get back to Lexington, Virginia—that's where I abandoned my family. I ran into the old warehouse in my little black dress, screaming out for Cas, for Dean, for Sam…for Adam. I should have been there for him. I shouldn't have let us get separated. I had his blood on my hands. It was my fault that Adam was dead. I realized then as I stood at the spot where I had last seen my guardian angel that I couldn't mess with fate. As much as I wanted to know my mother, I understood that if we had had a normal life then Dean and I—we'd be nothing. He was the most important person in my life, right beside Sam, of course. I kept turning around looking out for blue eyes in a trench coat when I saw my family emerge from the shadows.

"You just had to keep digging, didn't you Max?" My dad said sadly. "You just couldn't leave well enough alone, could you?"

"Dad, you really think this is what I wanted? Do you really think that I wanted to be separated from Sam and Dean?"

"But you had us. You have a mother, Max. It was the only thing you ever wanted." He continued, watching me back up trying to find a knife or something. I found a rusty blade on an old shelf and held it up for self-defense.

"I want _my_ brothers!" I growled, eying Dean rolling his eyes at my statement. "I want my brothers even if it means that I have to burn in hell."

"You did burn in hell though, Maxine." Sam, or whatever the hell was pretending to be Sam, spoke. "Please, give me the knife."

"No, this is all a dream. Cas—Cas is just messing with my head because I was about to die with Adam. If I kill myself, then I'll wake up." I'll be back in the real world…a world without my mom, my dad, without Jess or Carmen…a world where I can be assured that Sam and Dean was all mine.

"Please don't Max." My older brother spoke up, stepping towards me, his hands where I could see them. "We can fix this. We can be that happy family you've always wanted."

"You know this is what you want, Maxie." I cursed myself for listening to my mother as she spoke. "Please, stay with us."

"I'm sorry. Mommy, I love you." I brought the knife into my stomach, just above my bellybutton. The last thing I saw before I blacked out was my mother's face; she had tears in her eyes.


	34. Teenage Wasteland

**So, in my last chapter Max' boyfriend was named Dmitri...I hope everyone understood that whole Misha Collins ref :) **

**A big thanks to CC-R2000 and sweetkiwi604 for all their support! This story wouldn't be the same without you two!**

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I had twisted the knife in my torso, just to make sure that whatever I had done was fatal. I lay in a heap of rubble, clutching my midsection, trying to find my wound. A cold gust of wind flew threw my sweat and dirt matted hair, the loose strands tickling my nose and neck. A peal of agony escaped from my mouth as I sat up, feeling my sore limbs aching and my skin tight and stained with crusty blood. Looking behind me, I tried to crawl out from underneath a wooden beam that had fallen over my body, but hadn't maimed me, thankfully. A few foundations of the old warehouse still stood in utter ruin, as if the cement was to be seen as an epic trophy of the original buildings' great and terrible standing. I winced as I finally got to my feet, trying to avoid the sharp gravel and glass that lay like a wasteland beneath my feet.

"Dean," I coughed, attempting my first step but wavering helplessly against a large slab of stone. "Dean!" My voice was harsh, and my heart and throat were raw. Despite my desperate cries for assistance, I saw nothing but stones and metal all around me. Tears of frustration stained my soot covered face.

"Castiel!" I screamed as loud as I could, coughing out blood and dust. Dodging the uneven ground I found that sharp sensation stab into my calf once again as it had done in Bobby's house a few days ago. That was the problem with the wounds of war…they never leave you alone. They never let you forget.

Smoke billowed like poisonous fingers before me, and I wished for nothing more than to be in the arms of my brothers. The wind, though looking to bring me to my knees, felt cool against my hot skin. I wanted to die. I wanted to go back to hell because I couldn't take care of Adam. I wanted to go back to hell because I didn't mind being down there if it meant that Sam and Dean would be alright. I fell to the ground, not caring if the wind had won. I wrapped my arms around myself in self-pity, all of a sudden not fearing the reaper. He was nothing to be feared. Scrunching into a little ball I didn't hear the sound of crunching footsteps stop beside my broken body.

"Maxine?" I slowly looked at the hem of a tan trench coat. Cas hauled me to my feet roughly, throwing my arm around his shoulders while he secured his arm about my waist. "You're hurt."

"You don't say, Cas." I gasped bitterly, still in much pain, while bringing Castiel down with me as I collapsed. "Why didn't you let me stay with him, you asshole!? Why?"

"Max—"

"Hadn't the thought ever occurred to you that I wanted to die?"

"I wasn't going to let you break Dean's heart again." The angel said quietly, but with such force that I knew that he would have shouted if I hadn't been crying. Gathering me into his arms, he squeezed me gently. "I wasn't going to let you die, Max." I clung to the lapels of Castiel's coat as he wrapped one arm behind my back and the other under my knees.

I felt safe…not vulnerable anymore. My head fell back and I looked up at the clear sky. There was not one star in sight that I could use to make a wish. I tried to mentally suppress that heavy, nagging pain that lingered deep between the crevices of my soul. I had lost the use of my heart long ago but when that last spark—that last flame of the proof of life—drained out from Adam's eyes I knew that that empty void in my chest was filled…double the self-loathing, double the agony.

"Cas!" Oh, that voice!

"Dean," I whispered, a smile of relief playing on my lips as I was hastily transferred into the familiar aura of my big brother. My brothers looked down at me, eyes filled with some of something but I couldn't put my finger on it. It was so simple…so full of love.

"Hey, monkee, we've got ya." Dean cradled me in his arm as he sat on the soft grass. I sighed, leaning against his arm and looking up at Sam.

"Dean," I murmured. "Mom—she was beautiful."

"Not as pretty as you, monkee." I laughed softly, suddenly finding it difficult to breath. My back arched as I gasped out for air, rolling over to my side I just missed Sam's coat as I heaved blood and liquid onto the grass.

Ten minutes later I was sitting in the familiar comfort of the Impala, staring at the back of Dean's head and having Sam look back at me and asking if I needed anything. I shook my head, huddling into one corner and embracing the feeling of being safe and secure once again.


	35. Comfortably Numb

Sam's POV

"Max, we're going to the Roadhouse for a drink." Dean said, pocketing his keys and wallet. I glanced back at my sister, who was sitting against the pillows on the bed and staring at the TV. Her concentration on _That 70s Show_ reruns was held in a blank expression. I turned back to Dean who had a concerned scowl aging his face.

"I'll talk to her. Just go wait in the car." Dean nodded grimly, stepping out into the evening sun whilst leaving me to talk to Max.

"That Fez," She started monotonously. "is one horny bastard." Smiling, I sat on the edge of the bed, waiting for a second or two to see if she had anything more to say. "Do you know what it's like to be filled with the guilt that it was your fault that someone you loved died because of you?"

"Yeah, I do." I responded, unknowingly knitting my eyebrows together in curiosity as to where she was going with this.

"It's all my fault."

"Listen to me," I butt in, harsher than I meant to. "all this-none of it is your fault, Max! If Dean were in here right now you know he would say the same thing. What happened to Adam wasn't your fault. Mackie, please, telling yourself that you're to blame is never going to make you feel any better. Trust me." Max looked up at me, a sad smile on her lips.

"You haven't called me Mackie since we were kids."

"Yeah, well, maybe I should start it up again." I grinned. "Dean and I are gonna get a drink at the Roadhouse-unless you want someone to stay here with you."

"Psh," she scoffed with a smug air. "I'll be fine, Sam. Drink a beer for me, would ya?"

"You bet," I patted her leg before closing the door to the motel room and walking towards Dean, who leaned against the Impala still scowling.

"Is she good?" He asked, sliding behind the wheel and leaning over to unlock the passenger's door for me. I sat down with a huff, pushing aside fast food wrappers and empty beer bottles with my foot. "Hey, Sam, is she good?"

"Yeah, she's just...She's alive, Dean. And that's all that matters." Dean let out a heavy sigh, nodding to himself while pulling out of the motel parking lot and heading towards the Roadhouse.

"I'm worried about her, Sam. I mean, you know the bitch, we let her have her way and she nearly kills herself."

"That's Max for you." I replied, not bothering to secure the seatbelt across my body. "She just wants to take care of the people she loves."

"And she does the stupidest things!" My brother exclaimed, anger and misery drenching his voice.

"Wouldn't you, Dean? Wouldn't I? If that was Max in that jacket instead of Adam, wouldn't you have stayed with her?"

"Oh course I would have!"

"Than just be happy that she's alive, Dean. Just don't bust her ass for it."

"Oh, the hell I'm not!" Dean said resolute, he sounded more relived and calm now that he realized that Max was, in fact, in one piece.

The Roadhouse was just closing up by the time Dean and I stepped in. Jo was cleaning up the empty beer bottles scattered across the tables and greeted us with a bright smile as she walked behind the counter.

"Where's Max?" Jo asked, wiping her hands on her apron after she had shoved the recycling into an old bin near the door to the kitchen. "Ash's been talking about her all day since you guys called to say you were coming."

"How the hell does Ash know Max?" Dean slid into the stool just as Jo tossed him a beer.

"Oh, they dated in college." Jo answered, smiling sweetly despite out confusion. Dean gagged on his beer, glancing back at me, his mouth open in disbelief. It was inconceivable to imagine my sister with anyone except Sullivan—especially Ash. "They don't talk about it much."

"You're telling me!" Dean cried, throwing his hands up in the air in frustration.

"Didn't Ash go to M.I.T. though?" I wondered out loud, startled when someone sniffed beside me.

"Yeah, I did." Ash said hoarsely, wiping white specks of God knows what type of illegal drug from underneath his nose.

"Ash!" I caught my brother before he could do any severe damage to anyone. "What the hell were you thinking—dating my sister?" Ash shrugged like it was no big deal, a blush coming up on his face.

"How in the world did you two meet anyway?" I asked, patting Dean's shoulder so that he would sit down, shut up and drink his beer so I could hear the story. Ash slowly and rather unsurely took a seat a few feet away from Dean—I've never seen Mullet so nervous before. He played with his hair and I could just hear Dean rolling his eyes in intolerance.

"So," Ash started, trying to suppress a smile that played at his mouth before he could even get out the words that his mind was already putting together. For some reason, I didn't resent Max's decision to date Ash. He loved her, I could tell because I'm sure that's exactly how I looked when I remember Jess.

When we got back to the motel Max was fast asleep on the bed, a tan trench coat draped across her back, which was working in the way in which the blanket, which hung off her socked foot, couldn't. There were minor burns on her arms and dried blood filling up the cuts that were cleaned hours before.

"She looks real bad," Dean said emotionlessly, sitting at the end of the bed beside her feet.

"Shh, don't wake her up." I stepped forward to lay the warm, microfiber blanket over her shoulders. Max raised her head, her hair tumbling over her chin.

"Sam?" She mumbled, rising her head to look back at us.

"Nice going, sasquatch." Dean groaned. "You woke it up." Max winced as she tried sitting up. I watched painfully as she flexed her tense muscles.

"How're you feeling?" She looked up at me, eyes swollen and cheeks dulled from the salty tears that had drenched her face as soon as we had gone, and nodded.

"I've been worse." Dean opened a beer for himself before reclining against the pillows beside our sister, crossing his ankles and switching the TV on.

"We were, uh, talking to some people down at the Roadhouse," He started, flipping through the channels.

"Okay," Max shrugged, throwing her legs over the side of the bed and holding Cas' trench coat in the crook of her arm as she stood.

"We had no idea that you've been to Boston." Dean glanced at Max who was frozen in one place, staring into the opposite wall as if she was getting ready to make a run for it. I sat on the foot of the other bed, watching my sister's face scrunch up in frustration.

"Dammit Ash!" She growled, sitting back on the bed and turning to Dean with an apologetic look.

"Jo tipped you off," He smirked.

"J—it's because I hooked her up with some foreign, gay stripper. Damn, I should have listened to Ash!"

"Why didn't you tell us you got into M.I.T., Max?" I asked.

"You were always the brains of the family, Sam." She responded, smiling calmly, sloshing Dean's beer about before taking a long swig.

"Ease up there, marine." Dean snatched the bottle back from her before she could finish it.

"I mean, you guys were always romping about—stealing my thunder. I figured it was best if I kinda left it out." I knew she was always the secretive one between the three of us. I swear Max had more secrets than Dean's one night stands.

"Anything else you wanna tell us?" Dean inquired just for good measure.

"Is this a bad time to tell you that I'm pregnant?" Dean's eyes widened and Max threw her head back and laughed.

"That wasn't funny!" He exclaimed, shoving her gently, trying to avoid the bruises on her body. Her laughter turned into harsh coughing, a sign that she had a cold.

"You alright?" I asked, rubbing her back and reaching for my water bottle which she pushed away.

"The hell I'm getting you sick too Sammy. Better me than you." She buried her face into Cas' coat and lay doubled over on the bed before groaning and sitting up again. I felt her forehead which was hot to the touch. I just knew that there was no way in hell that she would let me take care of her, because Mackie was just a good big sister like that.


	36. Californication

Max's POV

*August 2002*

I huddled against the window on the Grey Hound that I caught in Lexington, Virginia. I felt unsafe being all by myself. The trees began to come more into focus as the bus started to slow at the last stop between me and M.I.T. The brakes set off in a high pitched halt before the driver opened the narrow double doors to the few people standing at the glass booth. My eyes stayed cemented on the ongoing traffic that buzzed just past the window. There was a loud sigh and some rummaging beside me. I turned to see a dirty blonde guy leaning over his backpack, fiddling with a Walkman. I rolled my eyes, glancing down at my iPod which I had snagged off some snooty rich kid back in Virginia. The little twerp had some pretty decent songs downloaded. I rotated my thumb about the flat dial on the thick machine and turned up the volume.

"'Immigrant Song', right?" I pulled out a single earphone to see who had spoken. "You into Zeppelin?" The guy beside me asked, smiling warmly. I nodded.

"A bit, thanks to my brother."

"Your brother's got good taste. You going to Boston?"

"Naw, I'm just on this bus for kicks." I said sarcastically, returning his smile none the less.

"I'm Ash, if you were wondering."

"That's great to know," Settling back into the seat, I rubbed my arms and pulled my rucksack closer against my chest just as the bus driver turned up the air conditioning. "

"You heading to M.I.T. too?" He continued in his deep, raspy voice.

"Yes, and if you must know, I'm Max."

"It's nice to meet you." My lips twisted almost effortlessly in pleasant speculation, observing his body language.

That's how I met Ash. And that's when Sullivan and I had a falling out. Ash understood me, more clearly than any other person I had ever met in my life. Maybe that's why I was so infatuated with him. Maybe that was why I went against everything I believed in so that I could be happy.

*present*

Dean snored softly beside me, most of the blanket tangled in his limbs. I sighed as I stretch out my stiff muscles, realizing that it was one in the morning. Quietly getting to my feet I walked into the bathroom, staring at my reflection in the mirror. I leaned over to wash the heavy oil from off my face and wasn't even surprised to see Castiel standing like a statue behind me.

"May I have my coat back? I don't feel presentable…a bit naked." I laughed to myself, tossing Cas his trench coat which hung on the back of the door.

"How'd I get your coat anyway?" Cas pursed his lips, shifting his body weight from one foot to the other.

"You…you looked cold so I…"

"Thank you, Cas." I cut in abruptly in order to avoid any chick flick moments.

"You should go back to sleep. I'll see you in the morning." The angel stepped forward and placed a kiss on my forehead, taking me by surprise. I nodded feeling exhaustion and sleep come upon me like a warm blanket. I carefully collapsed on the mattress beside Dean once again and snuggled against the cool pillow falling back into another dreamless sleep.

"She's in pretty rough shape, Bobby," Dean spoke in a hushed voice. I kept my eyes shut but my ears open. "I guess you're right. No, she's sleeping right now. I'm worried about her Bobby. She's had a fever for the past few days and she looks like hell. Yeah, see you soon, Bobby." I heard the phone snap shut and Dean sigh heavily before walking towards me. My brother's cool hand brushed against my cheek.

"Dean?" I mumbled, trying to sound like I had just been awoken.

"Hey, monkee, how're you feeling?" He leaned over to smile at me. I put a hand over my mouth so I wouldn't spread anything to him. "We're gonna get something to eat before we head out so get your butt in gear."

"Stop bossing me around." I groaned, rolling out of the bed groggily. "Where's Sam?"

"He went out to get you some medicine." Dean answered, gathering his clothing and shoving them into his bag, watching me waddle toward the sink. "Cas came by an hour ago…"

"And?" I rubbed the lathered soap around my face.

"Why haven't you annulled the marriage yet, Max?" Water droplets rolled down my shirt and down my forearm as I stood up straight from bending over the porcelain sink. I grabbed a wash cloth and dried my face and neck before turning back to Dean who stood with a lazily folded band shirt in his hands.

"I don't know…never got around to it, I guess." Dean frowned. "I don't know what you want me to tell you, Dean. You don't like Sullivan, you don't like Ash…"

"Hey! What I want to know is why you dated Ash while you were dating Sullivan?"

"Sullivan and I had a falling out." I justified loudly, hating how terrible I sounded—physically and mentally. "Long distance relationships _never _last Dean. Sullivan and I could never have lasted but I loved him…just like you loved Cassie. And just because I dated Ash doesn't mean that I loved Sullivan any less. Why can't you understand that?"

"But, why? Why Ash?!" Dean demanded, his arms outstretched defiantly.

"What's wrong with Ash?"

"He's…the mullet…and—the mullet!"

"He didn't have the mullet back in college, Dean!"

"Yeah, but still, Max, I just don't understand. Is Cas your sloppy third or something?"

"No!" I insisted, snarling, embarrassed that he would think so lowly of me. "I don't use people I care about, Dean."

"But you'd use the next himbo walking down the street, right?"

"Uh, yeah," I said, fluctuating my voice to make my point. "an idiot and his money are a girl's best friend."

"You're despicable, you know that?"

"Yeah, says the guy who goes after every airheaded bimbo in the bar."

"Hey, I love my bimbos."

"Then, you're no better than me, Dean." I snapped, clutching my fists into a ball and throwing the wash cloth into the corner of the counter.

"What's going on?" Sam asked, entering the small motel room with a white plastic bag.

"Thank God, the sasquatch has arrived." Dean smirked sarcastically. Sam pulled out a dark purple bottle from the bag and filled a small cup with maroon liquid before holding it out to me.

"It'll make you feel better, I promise." I quickly upended the plastic cup, swallowing the dull liquid so I would be free to gag at the bitter taste.

Just like Sam promised, the disgusting medicine did make me feel less heavy. My head still pounded and my throat still ached but my fever had dropped. Dean and I avoided eye contact as we drove around looking for somewhere we could eat. Sam kept insisting that we had to start eating healthy and finally had Dean stop at Subway. Sam ordered first and I followed, ordering a flat bread foot long with a hell of a lot of spinach, lettuce, cucumber and chicken with ranch and chipotle sauce.

"And he'll have—" I began, nodding back at Dean.

"Max, I can order food by myself."

"Fine," I snapped. "I guess you can pay by yourself too." Turning on my heels, I sat across from Sam at a hard booth.

"Girlfriend?" The guy putting the sandwiches together asked Dean.

"I wish. But you can't get rid of family." My older brother answered, paying and gathering the three bags before sitting beside Sam.

"What's up with you two?" Sam asked, watching Dean shove me my sub while taking a large bite of his own.

"Don't worry about it, Sam." I grumbled, pulling apart my foot long meal so it sat in two halves.

"Hello Winchesters." We all looked up to see Castiel standing next to the table, wooden as can be as he sat beside me. I pushed one half of my sandwich in front of the angel, earning me a scowl from Dean and a smirk from Sam. Cas looked from me to my brothers, letting out a quiet breath.

I wasn't a whore. Around when I left my father I had just been told by one of Sullivan's friends that he was cheating on me with some chick in his college. Like I said, we had a falling out. I wasn't lying to Dean when I said that I still loved Sullivan. It didn't matter what Sullivan had done…you never stop having feelings for your first love. Ash, on the other hand...I've never felt so close to anyone before. Ash made me accept the fact that it was better to be a freak than conforming to the empty norms of society.


	37. Leaving on a Jet Plane

Sam and I sat in silence in the cold Impala, waiting for Dean to come out of the bathroom. Cas had taken off a long while ago, claiming he had unfinished business to complete. I rolled my eyes—how cryptic of him. Sam shifted uneasily in the front seat, obviously having something very important on his mind. I rubbed my shin as another jab of pain plagued my bone.

"What's wrong?" Sam asked, turning back before I could pretend that I was fiddling with the strings on my canvas shoes.

"Nothing, I'm fine." I claimed indignantly. My brother sighed pathetically, still watching me with a dewy eyed sadness that made me groan in hopeless opposition. "Sam, aren't you a little too old to be playing the puppy-dog-face card?"

"Is it working?" Sam inquired with a small smile. If he meant is his puppy-dog-face breaking my heart? Then, yes, but it wasn't going to make me talk about the shrapnel I took for my buddy. He'd never take me alive.

"Do I really look like Dean to you, Sam?"

"Is that a trick question, Max? 'Cause you do look like Dean."

"I still can't see it." I mumbled, sitting up to retie my long, dark brown hair into a ponytail.

"Dean isn't going to let the whole Ash thing go, you know."

"I don't know why," I rolled the window down to squint at the billboard at the other end of the street.

"He's just doing what dad would do. He's looking out after you." Scoffing, I smiled sarcastically, turning back to my little brother.

"I think me dating Ash would be the _least_ of dad's worries."

"What's that supposed to mean? I don't understand why you're still bustin' on the man. He's dead, Max, show some respect. Don't—Don't walk away from confrontation, Max!" Sam screamed as I angrily got out of the car and followed me out into the crisp wind. Dean was just walking out of Subway, eying us like nothing could get any worse.

"What do you know about our dad, Sam?" I growled over the top of the Impala. "He was obsessed with finding the demon that killed mom! He was too bent on getting his own revenge than he was on protecting his children!"

"Awesome," Dean muttered to himself as he stood beside me.

"He loved us, Max. You believed that once!" Sam barked, throwing an accusing arm out in the air.

"Oh, put your money where your mouth is, Sam!"

"Dean was right about you—" Sam walked around the car to stand over me menacingly.

"Hey, Sammy, leave me out of your chick flick, would ya?"

"—You only leave the people who love you. You're no better than dad."

"You know what, Sam?" I smiled, flooding my face with impudence though my words were still harsh and very upset. "It's ironic, because you're the one who left first."

"Alright, ten paces you two." Dean stood between us, daring either of us to oppose him. "Let's just get to the Roadhouse, okay?"

"Why the hell are we going to the Roadhouse?" I asked, panic starting to overwhelm my being. I had just ruined a perfectly good relationship with my brothers and now Dean was just pushing it too far by going all the way to Nebraska.

"You're going to fix all this shit with Ash, you hear me, Max? Whatever is going on between you two is ending today."

"What the hell, Dean? Who are you to tell me what I can and can't do? And how many times do I have to tell you that Ash and I dat_ed_, as in e-d? We're not dating anymore. And even if we were, who do you think you are?"

"I'm your older brother, Max!" Dean boomed, staring me down with a stern glare.

"Go to hell, Dean. I don't have to fix anything with Ash because there's nothing to fix. We're going to Bobby's."

"Max," Dean growled rapidly coming to the end of his rope.

"Dammit Dean! I broke up with Ash so I could spare him from this whole Shining crap, okay? He was just stupid enough to come looking for me and got picked up by Ellen. _And_ while we're at it," I shrieked sarcastically. "I took some shrapnel to the knee in Iraq a year before you found me. So, don't you dare judge me, Dean! I would do anything for you and Sam. You two have had me wrapped around your finger since the day mom died." I looked back at Sam who stood awkwardly still.

"This isn't about mom or dad or Ash, is it Max?" Sam spoke with a sudden, subtle realization. "It's about Adam." I sighed helplessly, looking up at the dirty gray sky, hoping that my life was but a passing shadow. And I, a poor bastard, fair in luck but distrusted in body, stood aloft upon my own tower of guilt and damnation—staring out over a blue ocean just as a large wave enveloped my soul with Poseidon's fury. What more could I possibly do but blame myself for the misfortunes of the family I held so close to my ragged heart?

"It's never gonna go away, Sam." I wheezed gently, compressing the painful sobs which fought to escape my throat.

"Damn it, Max," Dean growled, wrapping my arms about his waist just as those dreaded waterworks started. My older brother—one of the only men I could count on, patted my back, holding me as if he'd never let me go—as if I was leaving on a jet plane and he didn't know if I'd be back again.

_Oh, babe, I'd ha__te to go… _

...

"I'm always here for you, you know that right Mackie?" Sam asked, looking back at me while Dean had stopped for a snack refill. I nodded; smiling fondly at my little babushka…Sam was most certainly the mother hen of this relationship as far as I could tell.

"So, you're not mad at me? About Ash or Cas?" He sighed, tapping uncertainly on the back of the leather upholstery.

"I don't know, Max. Sullivan has always been the guy for you, in my opinion. But, if you're happy with Ash or Cas then…then I'm happy too, I guess."

"Thanks Sam."

"Just don't make a habit of it." I laughed.

"I promise I won't, Sammy. I promise I won't."

*November 1997*

I stood outside of Sam's sixth period class—Bio G/T—waiting for him to get his ass in gear and get out so we could find Dean. He finally walked out of the lab with his dark haired friend who wore even darker rimmed glasses.

"Dude, Sam, who's that? She's hot."

"Thanks kid." I beamed.

"That's my sister," Sam answered blandly, waving to his friend before following me out to the side entrance of the school building. "Do you think Dad'll mind that we left Dean?" He asked hesitantly as we walked along the side of the road. The school was only two or three miles away from the motel room Dad had us living out of. I looked back at him, stumbling though the uneven ground with his backpack slung over one shoulder.

"Naw, I think we'll be safe...if dad doesn't find out." I smiled reassuringly, adjusting the old rucksack that hung off my own aching shoulders and remembering Dean's face when some cheerleader led him into the janitor's closet. "Don't worry, Sammy, I'll take care of you."

"I can take care of myself, Max," Sam groaned, obviously embarrassed that he needed his sister to look after him when he was a grown up fourteen year old.

"I know, but you don't have to when I'm around." Slowing down my brisk pace, I fell back to Sam's easy going speed, brushing against his arm every time I took a step just to make sure he was still beside me.

"I'm not a kid, Max, and neither are you. We should have stayed with Dean like Dad always tells us to."

"You know you just contradicted yourself, right?"

"No, I didn't."

"Uh huh, yes, you did!"

"You're so immature, Max." I grinned ear to ear as Sam smiled softly to himself. "How was school for you? Dean said that you sang him some German song."

"No, it was a way to remember German prepositions or something. Want me to sing it for you?"

"No!" Sam nearly shouted. "Your singing makes my ears bleed."

"My singing isn't _that_ bad."

"Tell my ears that."

"You're such a smartass, Sam." I laughed. "I think Dean's finally rubbing off on you. I'll sing the prepositions for you." I started singing the five German prepositions to the tune of Happy Birthday.

"Make it stop!" My little brother covered his ears with his palms.

"You're a jerk!"

"Thank you." He replied, as I pulling out a paperclip from my pocket and began picking the lock to the motel. There was a click from within as I finally twisted the paper clip out from the easy device that secured our belongings within. Sam dropped his back bag on the bed as I suddenly felt an aching regret that I had just gotten into big trouble by leaving Dean back at the high school. Dad had always been very strict that the three of us had to stick together but now...I was half tempted to leave Sam here so I could go back just to drag Dean. I knew that if dad figured out what I did, it would be on Dean's account. But I guess that was all drowned out when I saw Sam beating a kid up near the outdoor picnic tables. I was so proud of him. I always was and I always would be.

* * *

**Just a heads up: I'm probably not going to upload a new chapter to this story until Friday because I think I'll need a few days to calm myself due to the new season premiere...so, I just want to wish you all a Happy Supernatural Season 8 Wednesday! **

**The Road So Far...**


	38. Losing My Religion

**Now that I am in very good spirits I would like to thank each and every one of you for continuing to read this boring story through every chapter! I doff my cap to all of you and I can't even tell you how much I am grateful! **

**And a very, very big thanks to xoloveJBox who is the most darling person I have ever known (she has some pretty legit stories. no lie. totally worth reading!) as well as sweetkiwi6 04 who has taken her time to give me advice (you should totally read her stories too! It'll make you laugh so hard!)! **

* * *

I sat in the back seat in silence, the hood of my sweatshirt pulled deep over my eyes. Dean had turned on the radio as soon as he had had the engine rolling and the familiar music droned on and on and on…AC/DC, Blue Oyster Cult, Bon Jovi, Zeppelin, Metallica, Black Sabbath—this is what I grew up with. And even though that music wasn't necessarily my cup of vodka, it still sent a warm sense of security down my being. It was still weird implication of want—an odd feeling one gets when they love something so much that they could die filled with the ecstasy of the greatness of such a thing. That was what I felt about the music that Dean had on…that was what I felt about the family that I was losing so quickly.

"You really think we should do this to her?" Sam asked from the front seat when the purr of the Impala's engine had ceased. I heard Dean sigh, pulling out the keys from the ignition with a zinging sound. "Dean. I don't think that this is a good idea."

"Sam," My brother groaned. "she's not eating, she barely sleeps and she drinks more than what's good for her. Trust me, she'll thank us when this is over."

"That's just my point, Dean. She said it was over—she said she had nothing to say."

"Yeah, she says that all the time, Sam. You would know that if you had to take her crap for four extra months. She's not okay. She needs to talk to someone and if she won't talk to us then she's talking to him."

"I still don't like this." Sam growled, harshly putting all his weight against the door to the Impala before stepping out.

"Monkee?" Dean mumbled, gently shaking me awake.

"Uhm?" I genuinely yawned, slipping my hood off over my face and looking up at his face which held a subtle sympathy. "Where are we?"

"Trust me," Dean said, stepping out of the car himself. "you'll thank me when this is over." I looked out of the window and saw the large sign to the Roadhouse.

"You have got to be kidding me, Dean!" I shouted, stumbling out to my feet and trying to look as vicious as I could manage. "Why don't you ever listen to me?" My older brother tried pulling me into an embrace but I snapped away, glaring at his meaningful face.

"I just wanted you to be happy, Max."

"I am happy Dean!" I hissed. "Are you?"

"Just get in there, monkee," He said gently, pleading for me just to listen to him this once.

"I have nothing to say to him, Dean. Just remember that."

I hadn't seen Ash a good five years. And now, with Adam dead and my whole world crashing down I figured that I could lie down on the cold ground and hope that he would pick me up in his warm arms and tell me that everything would be okay.

The Roadhouse was fairly busy when I entered. I'm sure I looked terrible—all tired and dewy eyed. My eyes jumped to every face trying to find the eyes that I truly wanted to meet. And there he was, standing up right at the end of the room with a pool cue in his hand and a knowing smile on his mouth. He walked forward, meeting me halfway up the length of the room.

"Winchester," He said coolly, sending a shiver run down my back as if the bus driver had just turned the air conditioning on an all-time high.

"Can we talk in the back?" I refused to meet his eyes as we walked to a secluded corner of the kitchen, away from the eyes of Jo or Ellen.

"Anything else you wanna do in that back?" Trying to hide a smile that played at my face, I stood against the wall, looking up and laughing, unable to keep a serious face any longer which reaching up and rubbing my fingers against the small braid that ran down his hair.

"What happened to your hair?" Ash smiled at my touch, brushing his own fingers against my cheekbone. My head cocked to the side, biting the inside of my lip as I slightly inched up on my toes.

"Did you just come here to say hi, pudding?" He asked, his eyes sparkling with a wonderful intensity that made an eruption of fire churn in the pit of my stomach that sent a sensitive twinge of lust go down my body.

"Ash," I began, trying my hardest to resist this temptation.

"Yes?"

"Ash," My breathing slowed as I sank against the wall. "Ash, I came here to say goodbye."

"What are you talking about, Max?" I licked my lips, trying to find the right words to say.

"It goes like this: you and I…we've had our good times…we can't be what we were in college, Ash." He knit his eyebrows together, his face twisted as if he was in pain. "I never wanted this for you, Miles." That was his real name…Miles. And when Ash heard me say that he took a step back, looking me over and nodding in acceptation.

"I wouldn't want to hurt you, Max."

"Ash, I loved you but there's someone else."

…

"So, how'd it go?" Dean asked, leaning against the hood of the Impala with his hands stuffed in the pocket of his leather jacket. I shrugged, looking up at the darkening sky and hoping that Cas would come around soon. Sam was asleep in the back seat so I walked around the long, black car and slid into the passenger's seat, Dean following close behind me.

"That bad, huh?" He started the engine and slowly pulled out onto the dirt road.

"Nope," I shrugged again, looking out of the windshield and into the thicket of trees ahead. "I told him the truth and he understood. I did what you told me to do Dean…just like I always do." Just like a toy soldier. "Hey, Dean?"

"Yeah, monkee?"

"Thank you."


	39. Happy Together

It was nearly one in the morning when the Impala stopped in front of Bobby's ragged house. The crazy, old, drunk stood expectantly on the porch, his arms crossed with a western strength. He looked as worn as the house he lived in.

"Hey, Bobby," I yawned, burdened by my unusually heavy duffel. "I'm grabbin' the third door to the left." He nodded quietly as I stumbled upstairs. Forcing myself to keep to my uniform military training, I neatly placed my duffel and my shoes in a small corner before curling into a ball in the warm covers over the lumpy, third-door-to-the-left's mattress.

…

*September 22, 1999*

"You're really sure about this one, Max?" My father asked skeptically watching a wide grin spread across my face. I nodded, laying a loving hand over the sleek, black paintwork—feeling the rise and fall of the cool hood. Glancing back at my father and my brothers, I found them still staring with jaws open as if I had lost my marbles. They didn't like him but I knew that I did. Me and the Charger was like Dean and the Impala. We were perfect.

"I've never been surer, dad." I bit my bottom lip in excitement, feeling all the heavy dead weight of the world slip away when it just became the Charger and I standing together in the darkness.

"It's got bad mileage, Max." My dad said reasonably, his eyes dark, sunk, tied, and aged.

"It's got better mileage than the Impala, dad." I insisted, squatting down on my ankles to poke the tires and feel the rims. Sighing with a content that was the Charger, I smiled up to them.

"But it looks like a piece of crap, monkee." Dean helpfully put in as I stood to make another round about the beautiful car. Sam wiggled his nose with a pleasant disdain.

"So does your face, Dean, but you don't hear me complaining." My brother nearly tackled me as I pranced happily about the car, grabbing Sam's cold hands so I frolic in a joyful circle.

"Ease up, you two." John Winchester ordered just before Dean pulled me into a full nelson. "Max, are you _sure _you want this car?"

"Come on, dad!" I cried with a peal of laughter. "Yes, I am totally certain that this is the car I want!" I wiggled out of Dean's deadly grip and stood seriously beside John, sticking my bottom lip out as if I was pleading.

"Alright, alright!" He sighed, rubbing his eyes with his dry fingers. "Happy birthday, Max."

…

The bright rays of sunshine danced on the dusty floor when I awoke and sat up in the messy bed. Stretching out as much as I could and twisting my body to either side left my tight muscles calm for the moment. It was a beautiful morning. The sun was shining. The house was warm and—

Did I smell eggs? Bacon? Cinnamon?

I stalked down to the kitchen, not bothering to tie my hair which was like a tangled, fluff ball on the top my head. There was some sharp clanking from the kitchen and some mocking laughter. The sun shone through the bay window and I stood in the bright spots so my chilled toes would get some warmth.

"What're you guys doing?" I gasped, not believing the sight I saw before me.

My brothers whipped around, trying to hide the breakfast going on the stove. Dean held a plastic spatula in his large hand while Sam was gawking at my shitty hair. My eyes went from my severely awkward brothers to the kitchen table, nicely set with mismatch dishes and utensils, all the empty beer bottles and newspaper clippings out of sight and out of mind.

"What's going on? Did someone die or something?" I asked, walked around the table while pulling my hair up in a lugubriously off bun and standing accusingly in front of Sam and Dean.

"It's your birthday." Sam stated with a slow, one-armed hug.

"No it's not. My birthday was last year."

"Well," Sam continued as a matter of fact-ly. "That's the funny thing about birthdays, Max. They're kinda an annual thing." Shaking my head, I started going back up toward the stairs. It was way too early in the morning for this. Sam sprinted after me, reeling me back to the table and making sure I was sitting before smiling. I began to get up to get a glass of water but my youngest brother put both of his hands on either shoulders and forced me back down.

"I just want some water, Sam!" I laughed, shoving him away.

"Children in Africa need water," Dean said behind his shoulder, unsteadily flipping an omelet with spinach, cheese, and ham—just how I liked it. "You need nothing!"

"Happy birthday Max." I looked up to see Castiel uneasily standing beside me with a beautiful red rose.

"Tha—thank you, Cas." I smiled wearily up to him, ignoring Dean rolling his eyes while I took the thorny stem and set it on the table beside my plate just as Bobby stumbled in from outside.

After all the food was gone and the dishes were cleaned I looked around the table…Bobby, Dean, Sam, Cas…what more could I ask for? I could think of something but I had promised Dean that I'd stay out of Nebraska. My brothers were arguing whether peanut butter or jelly was cooler. I would glance at Castiel every now and then, hoping he'd speak his mind about anything trivial. Before I could say anything, Bobby shoved his chair back and walked into the coat closet beside the back door and hauled out a milk case full of genuine Tennessee whiskey.

"Yeah, Bobby!" I whooped, when he handed me a full bottle before distributing the rest between the others, leaving Cas out in fear that that damned angel would marry me again.

"Every man to himself, idjits!" Bobby snapped open the cap and we clicked the necks of the bottles with each other, feeling very cliché.

"Oh, Max, I got you a present!" Dean popped up to his feet after he had taken a long swig from his share. I could hear his loud footfalls stomp up the stairs and come back down with his hands behind his back and a smug grin on his eyes. "Close your eyes."

"The hell! I'm not closing my eyes!" I opposed but the cries from Sam briefed me to shut my eyes and hold my hand out as I felt a light cover set in my hands. There was some snickering from my brothers.

When I opened my eyes my sixteenth birthday played through my head again. Everything was the same…Sam and Dean on the verge of crying because they were laughing so hard and Bobby was shaking his head like we were stupid. But it wasn't exactly the same. I looked down at the condom in my hand.

"Yeah, man!" I laughed, nodding my head in approval before flicking it into the trashcan.

"Okay, okay!" Dean put his hands up in surrender as he pulled out an oddly wrapped present from his pocket. "This is from me and Sam." I slowly pulled past the tape and held Dean's amulet in my hand. The same amulet Sam meant to give to dad but gave to Dean instead. The same amulet I was always felt so proud to see my older brother wearing.

"I can't take this, Dee. This is yours."

"We want you to have it, Mackie." Sam grinned from across the table. I shook my head, serious as could be.

"I'm not taking this. This is Dean's."

"Shut up, bitch." Dean growled, while grabbing the necklace from the wrapping paper and sliding it over my head so it landed snuggly on my chest.

"That's not all," Bobby said optimistically but with a hint of sarcasm as he walked out of the house and to the garage.

Sam wrapped his arm around my shoulders as the three of us followed Bobby to the entrance of the rusty building. My eyes widened as I looked upon my beautiful Charger. He stood as sleek and shiny as ever. Parked: ready to kick ass and take names!

"Oh, my baby." I sobbed, throwing myself against the hood and trying to wrap my arms around the machine.

"She's worse than you, Dean." Sam pointed out, elbowing our brother in the side.

"That's true love, right there." Dean answered, smacking Sammy across the back of the head.

"Thank you Bobby." I wiped away my overly dramatized tears and kissed the scruffy man's cheek. "I should have a birthday every year."

That night I sat up, contemplating my decision. The Charger was fixed and running so I could practically go anywhere I wanted. Fiddling with the amulet around my neck, I packed my clothing and slipped out the door and down the hallway. This was against everything I stood for but I had to do what I had to do even if it went against Dean's orders.

I was just about to step out of the house when I felt another eyes watching me. Castiel stood near the window, glancing me over with quiet eyes. I was stuck in one spot, unable to breathe or move as he came towards me. He stood close to my body and I felt his breath on my nose as he spoke softly.

"I forgot to give you a present today."

"It's okay Cas." I smiled reassuringly, inching back toward the door. The angel put his hand over my chest and I felt a searing pain stab into my skin. I bit my lip to hold back the painful moan that I clenched inside of my throat as the sting got more and more ferocious even after Castiel had taken his hand off from over my heart, his face distorted and uncomfortable as he witnessed my raw pain.

"You have an anti-possession tattoo. Just in case." He leaned over and kissed my cheek reluctantly. "Where are you going?"

"I—I couldn't sleep. I'm just gonna take the Charger out for a ride." Castiel nodded and let me on my way but not before saying,

"Take care of yourself Maxine. I don't know what I'd do if something happened to you."

"Thanks Cas."

I hopped in my car and drove as fast as I could to Nebraska. I felt sad, almost guilty, when I pulled out of the salvage yard but I knew this was what I wanted and there was no turning back. It would only take five and a half hours. Only _five _and a half hours. I mean, at least it wasn't ten hours, right? But then again, I had five and a half hours to change my mind and go back to Bobby's to get drunk and keep the peace but no…I _needed _to go to Nebraska. Because a promise is a promise. I owed him that much.

After almost six hours of nonstop driving, I picked the lock to the door and slid into the familiar smelling hall. I had to be quiet because I would be dead as a doornail if I was caught.

"Max?" I looked up to inquisitive eyes shadowing hurt and sorrow all in one glance.

"Ash," I breathed stepping forward, not letting him get a word in edgewise before I wrapped both arms around his neck and pulled his inviting lips against mine. This was what it was meant to be for us. I knew it and he knew it.


	40. I Can't Get No Satisfaction

Max's eyes fluttered open sharply at six in the morning. She felt a warm arm protectively wrapped around her bare body. Panic. A feeling that this Winchester seldom allowed within herself now swelled inside of her tortured soul. It was not an emotion she was intimate with; nonetheless it came upon her like the old friend she was so deprived of. Guilt.

Sliding as quickly and as softly as she could manage from Ash's embrace, Max gathered her clothing, knowing that she would not be able to avoid the saturnine figure standing by the only window in the room. Her eyes stung as she hurriedly pulled on her undergarments.

"You can go and tell my brothers. I don't care." She whispered, turning back to the angel who looked at her with remorseful eyes. "I'm sorry, Castiel."

"No, you're not, Maxine. An apology is an empty promise that Winchester's make so they'll feel better about themselves."

**Sam's POV**

"I'm not going in there, Sam." Dean opposed as we sat in the Impala, parked just outside of the Roadhouse. He'd taken it hard when Cas had woke us up in the middle of the night to tell us that Max had run off to see Ash. Dean concealed his betrayed feeling underneath a blanket of empty threats and loud music. We'd given Max everything and she left…just like that. She wanted to be happy. She wanted to feel less alone and more empowered ever since Adam died and I suppose, in some disgusting way, Ash could give her that feeling of invincibility.

"We have to go in there, Dean." I said firmly, but rubbing my eyes in exhaustion. "Even though you don't like the thought of Ash deflowering our sister—"

"Dude! Deflowering…don't use that word! It makes me uncomfortable…and a little bit icky." Rolling my eyes, I got out of the car and made my way up toward the entrance to the Roadhouse, Dean following uncertainly behind.

"Dammit Ash! You have so many syntax errors in your coding! Move!" Max shoved Ash out of his seat and typed furiously at the homemade laptop just as I opened the door and stepped in.

"Hey Sam," Jo grinned with six bottles of beer in her hands as she came out from the behind the bar. I nodded politely before pulling up a chair beside Max, who was still scanning through the lines and lines of unfamiliar coding.

"Where's Dean?" She asked, not even turning to look at me. Ash sat awkwardly across from us, not meeting my eyes.

"We should leave…now." Max glanced at me knowingly while sliding the computer toward Ash, gathering her rucksack and keys from his room and kissing Mullet before saying goodbye to Jo and Ellen.

Dean was leaning against the Impala, arms crossed tightly and a scowl across his face. I could tell that Max was scared and reluctant to face our brother but she knew that it had to be done. She put on her best smile as we walked out of the Roadhouse, the amulet we had given her moving up and down with her overly optimistic steps.

"Miss me?" She asked, but Dean continued frowning.

"Meet me in the motel. Sam, go with her." He growled, angrily getting inside of the Impala and driving off. Max shrugged as if she had done nothing wrong and glided toward the Charger which was almost hidden near the tree line.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" I finally demanded as she slid behind the wheel and started the engine up. I repeated my question as she tried to catch up with Dean, meeting his deadly speed with her own. The smile that once brightened her face was now drained and her mouth was pursed into a firm line.

"Do you know what it feels like, Sam, to be so infatuated with one person and then, once you get to know them better, you realize that they weren't what you expected?"

"Are you—Are you talking about Castiel?"

"No! I'm talking about Ash. I loved him once. I really did, Sam. But people change. Time changes people. And even though I loved Ash I can't love him anymore."

"What are you talking about?"

"I can't love people, Sam! I just can't." The Charger was speeding down the empty dirt road faster than what was a comfortably psychotic speed. She was losing it. I could tell that her eyes burned with a passionate fire filled with sadness and hopelessness.

"You love me, right, Max? And you love Dean. You know you love Dean." She didn't answer. "Max, listen to me, I know you feel bad about Adam but it's time to let go. Just like the way we let go of dad. You have to let him go. I'm sorry but Adam's not coming back." I put my hand over hers, which gripped the steering wheel tightly. "You have to let go of Adam the way you let go of Sullivan. Please, be brave for me, Mackie." The world outside began slowing down to a jolting halt as Max slammed down on the breaks.

"I don't know why I left, Sam!" She cried, clawing at her scalp with her fingers in regret. "I needed to feel whole again. I just wanted to feel that—" Max took a deep breath, shaking her head without words to say.

"Empowerment?" I suggested. She smiled through her tears and shrugged.

"Sure, hippie. Look, just call Dean and tell him I'm sorry."

"Why don't you call him?"

"You know full well that we'd kill each other over the phone, Sam. _You _call him and _you _tell him to stand down."

"You know he won't stand down first, Max." She groaned and snatched my phone from my hand, beginning to drive while putting the phone against her ear.

"What?" I heard Dean shout from the other line.

"Hey, dipshit," She began, trying to force a smile as if she was trying to tell herself that she meant what she was saying. "I…"

"Yeah, me too, dumbass." I heard my brother say and a real smile spread across Max's face.

* * *

**Okay, question time! Should I add more action and ghost-slaying along with the whole drama? I feel like there's been more fights and drama than what the Winchesters are supposed to be doing-killing every damn, son of a bitch demon or supernatural creature that comes along! Thanks for reading!**

**The Road So Far...**


	41. Rocky Mountain High

**Right now, I could name so many names but a big thank you to everyone who is reading! Like I have said so many times, I really couldn't have come this far without you! So, thank you all so much and I give you all a big hug :)**

**Have a happy Supernatural Wednesday everyone!**

* * *

"Hey!" I exclaimed as Sam snatched the bag of assorted chocolates from my lap. He held it above his head before upending the bag so that a colorful array of wrappers fluttered down on the bed and landed lightly on the dusty 1970s carpeting.

"This isn't healthy, Max!" Sam scoffed, kicking the paper mess with the toe of his boot. "This is denial!"

"And gluttony," Dean put in from the stool behind the kitchenette bar, looking over a skin magazine. "you're getting a bit thick at the waist. Hey, you're a chunky monkee." He chuckled, as if it were the most original thing in the world.

In any other situation I would have kicked Dean's shin or have put him in a headlock before going off on a long lecture about talking chivalrously to women but now I just shrugged, mentally noting that I would start something that hadn't been started up between the three of us in a while. I looked indignantly back up at Sam's face before glancing down at the unopened chocolate on the ground.

"You're picking all this up, broski. And put it in the recycling bin…we have to save the polar bears." Standing, I went over and sat beside Dean, pulling Sam's laptop towards myself before opening it up to find that it was password secured.

"You'll never figure out the password." My youngest brother smirked, throwing empty wrappers in the small blue bin near the door.

"Dude, challenge accepted. I hacked into the FBI's database. I'm sure this won't be so hard." It took me four tries to get the right password, which was Bobby's house number by the way. "Really, Sam? Why couldn't it be a bit more challenging?"

"You _did_ hack into the FBI's database." Sam repeated in a matter-of-fact tone.

I put the whole world which was rotating and moving along around me on pause while I stuck my nose into the computer screen, scrolling through every newspaper company that I had seared into my memory. My eyes skimmed down the lines of eyewitness accounts and a brief coroner's report.

"I think I got us a gig." My brothers glanced over my shoulder as I scrolled up to the top of the article. "So," I explained monotonously. "a man's body was found, trashed by the side of Lake Heritage, in Gettysburg, Pennsylvania. Nothing suspicious was found on him but an imprint of lips on his lower jaw. I ran the history of the lake on my special little tracker thingy and over the past two hundred years many deaths have occurred on or near the Lake Heritage area, including the battle of Gettysburg, of course."

"I guess we're going to Pennsylvania then," Sam stated, walking toward the bathroom to collect the toothbrushes and various hair products that I had lined up against the bathtub and mirror. A girl's gotta look good.

"What do you think we're looking at, Max? Water-gods?" Dean wondered out loud, standing up to stretch out his sore muscles.

"I don't know for sure but it apparently only goes after dudes so I'm thinking it's some sort of siren."

"So, we're going after the little mermaid. Mmm, love me some gingers." Dean shook his head with a stupid smile on his face.

"There are different kinds of water bitches, Dean." I scoffed, shutting the laptop and pulling out a fresh pair of socks from my bag. "There are mermaids, sprites, naiads, Kappas….Nessie."

"Maybe it's not necessarily a mystical water creature," Sam came out of the bathroom with a handful of colorful bottles and gels, which he shoved into my rucksack. "What if it's something that wants us to think it's a sprite or a mermaid? What if it's an ordinary creature that just needs the water to survive?" Dean and I looked skeptically at our little brother.

"You've been practicing that speech, haven't you?" Dean inquired, a mocking grin plastered against both of our faces as Sam cocked his head to show off his effortless bitch face.

"I'm serious Dean." Sam said plainly.

"Wait." I cried, a genius logic going through my head. "What if it's an ordinary creature that just needs the water to survive?"

"I never thought of that!" Dean exclaimed. "Max, you're so smart. How'd that come to you?"

"I don't know. It just came to me."

"I hate both of you." Sam pouted, pulling on a jacket over his funnel shirt.

"Get used to it, Sasquatch." I laughed, pulling my old, worn combat boots on and hauling my bag over my shoulder. "Hey, Dee, am I taking the Charger or am I going in the Impala?" Dean groaned, and rubbed his eyes.

"I called Jo this morning—" He began.

"Bet she liked that." I cut in, smiling innocently at his irritated face.

"I called Jo this morning and she's gonna take it to the Roadhouse."

"I could've taken it there though."

"Yes, you could have but Ash is there and I want you nowhere near him right now." I wondered just how long this protective, overbearing brother thing would wear off then it hit me that it might not. I nodded, being slightly agreeable for the moment before hiding the keys to my restored 1968 Dodge Charger under inside of the hub cap before reluctantly climbing into the Impala.

I think the best part of growing up was the car rides. Sam and Dean hated it, but not me. No, I used to sit in the backseat as a kid, counting every car that passed by my window. When I got tired of counting all the cars, I would count all the red cars or the blue cars or I would even look at the symbols on the wheel or the back and I would ask my dad what type of car it was and how it worked or why it was so different. My father would give me a long speech on the different engines or frame but I'd always zone out before he could even finish a sentence. Yeah, I think the best part of growing up was the car rides.

"Dude, did you just fart? It's like sulfur!" Dean coughed, rolling down the windows and sticking half his head out into the cold air.

"You wanna get, you gotta give." My little brother grinned victoriously. It took a minute for the dry vomit wrenching smell to waft to the back. I nearly gagged as I, too, followed suit, and rolled the window down.

"What did you eat, Sam?" I scrunched up my nose. "It smells like—"

"Like sulfur! It smells like sulfur, I tell you!" Dean cried angrily, waving his free hand near his face as we drove down the empty, mountain roads.

"It's not that bad." I protested, trying desperately to circulate the air in the tiny enclosed vehicle.

"It smells like an onion bagel—what the hell?!" The Impala harshly jolted to a halt as Dean rested his eyes on Crowley sitting beside me in the back.

"Hold your horses, Dean-sey." The king of hell chuckled.

"Crowley," I grinned, my fingers wrapping around the handle of the knife that I had tucked into my boot. "I though you forgot about me." With that flagrant remark, I used my whole body weight to stab the demon in the chest.

"Hey, watch the seats!" Dean proclaimed, hurrying out of the car. Crowley simply rolled his eyes and handed the knife back to me as Sam pulled me protectively out of the back.

"When will you learn, love?" The demon asked, clearly unimpressed.

"What do you want?" My older brother snapped, irritated that I had just put his baby in harm's way. The demon nonchalantly leaned against the side of the car and I could see Dean making a mental note to wash his car sometime soon.

"Oh, I just came here for a friendly chat. I hope you don't mind. But, more importantly, I want to know where Castiel is. So, where is your boyfriend?" He asked Dean. "The question is pointed mainly to you, Miss Winchester but I figured that Dean-boy here would throw a little bitch fit if he was left out."

"I haven't seen Cas in a couple of days." I replied, quite vexed with the topic we were now on.

"Really?" Crowley mused, his sardonic fascination drenched throughout his accent. "So, he doesn't stand over your bedside to watch you sleep?"

"What movies are you watching, buddy?" Dean's invisible defense went up; a murky, unwonted demeanor replacing the strong edifice which I had originally discerned as my older brother.

"Something big is about to hit. Something bigger than you and I. We need the angel." Crowley explained, glancing from Sam, who stood near the trunk, then to me and Dean as we stood before him.

"Oh, please," I scowled, my sacred credence in Castiel was nefariously feckless—the scorching stigma, which was my life, standing between two supernatural beings…an angel and a demon. "don't go all primordial on us. The whole vague as hell thing doesn't suit you, Crowley."

"You really should try listening to people who know what's good for you, Miss Winchester. We wouldn't want your moose here to end up like that half-'chester."

"Was that a threat?" Dean snarled, pulling out his gun and pointing it towards the demon who just rolled his eyes.

"What is with you Winchester's? It's like you pull guns and knives out of places I don't even want to think about."

"They're trying to make a fashion statement." Sam exhumed, sending three disbelieving pairs of eyes shooting bestial daggers at him.

"Can you get any more gay, Sam?" Dean asked, pulling his eyebrows into a deep furrow, trying to recover from Sam's minute outburst of teenage girl-ness.

"Focus, Dean." I reminded, placing myself between Crowley and Sam. "Why do you want Castiel?"

"The question, Miss Winchester, isn't why I want him but why he wants you. Did you manage to beguile him or did you dissimulate your true intentions?"

"What's he talking about, Max?" Sam inquired. Dean also sent out a questionable glance, putting me on the spot as if I, alone, was the lone transgressor whose soul was drenched with raw impropriety and a haughty ignominy which enveloped those that I loved in an inauspicious portal.

"I am so damn sick of your twisted mind screwing, Crowley." I reviled, hoping all the enmity that I had inherited, by the inalienable justice, from the misfortunes of my broken family was now imperiously unearthed via my odious wrath.

"It takes two to tango, Maxine. And right now, it's just you and me." The efficiency in Crowley's poker face prompted me to hold fast under the abnormally terrible telepathic communication that I shared with him. Dean lowered his pistol and roughly pulled me away from Crowley with an exasperated huff.

"Enough with the small talk, what's coming and why do you need Cas? And try answering straight of I will shoot you in the face."

"Suppose," The demon began, putting his hands in his pockets and crossing his ankles comfortably. "Suppose I made up a little issue to draw out that angel to conform him to my own ideology? Hypothetically speaking, mind you."

"Go screw yourself." Dean advised sarcastically.

"You obviously don't know much," Crowley mused, straightening his cufflinks and smoothing over his coat. "as I expected. If you do see the angel, tell him I came around." With that, the king of hell was gone.

I figured Dean wouldn't even consider heading over to Pennsylvania after out little encounter with Crowley, but I was too cowardly to inquire future plans from my brother. The car was ride was long and strained, leaving no room for even a short, awkward conversation until Dean put in one of his old Metallica cassettes. The even, constant music seemed to loosen the gloomy air as dusk fell.

I was only half awake by the time I felt Sam gently shove me into full consciousness. Looking out the window, I strained my exhausted eyes to focus on the large white building that towered above the Impala.

"Get your butt in gear, marine." Dean laughed successfully when I jumped at the sudden sound of his loud voice. "Welcome to Pennsylvania, home of the Amish."

"Why is he so happy?" I murmured to Sam as I got out and walked to the trunk.

"I'm gonna plow me a field." Dean grinned mischievously. Sam grimaced but I'm not the fastest bulb to light.

"I don't get it." I mumbled, covering a yawn with the back of my hand as I tried my hardest to carry my heavy bag.

Dean unlocked the door to a moderately, decent motel room. I quickly hauled my belongings onto one of the armchairs to find Sam and Dean still standing in the doorway, their pointer fingers on their noses.

"Nose goes," Sam shrugged. "you've gotta double up."

"I thought that was already implied. Who am I sharing with?" My brothers glanced at one another, lowering their hands to rick-paper-scissor-shoot stance. I already knew that Sam would get his own bed; Dean and his scissors.

"Dammit!" Dean whined. "Two out of three." I fell back into the closest bed, lazily trying to kick off my boots while hugging a pillow against my body.

I dozed off for a short while before I opened my eyes with sudden realization and twisted around to see Dean reclining beside me, watching television. Sam was already asleep in a huge lump in the next bed.

"Sorry," My brother apologized, lowering the volume from the remote. "I didn't mean for it to be so loud. What the hell was that for?" He tenderly put a hand over his upper arm after I had punched him.

"You're disgusting, you know that?" I spat out. "Plowing some poor, innocent Amish girl's field,"

"That didn't take you forty five minutes to work out." He grinned, still rubbing his arm.

I angrily mumbled about his lack of respect for people who separated themselves from the norms of this present society before I fell asleep again. This time I saw a white boarded chapel, which stood on the side of the road. The morning sun shone brightly against the high steeple which illuminated the white cross like a halo. I slowly entered the building, unaware of the basic structure of the building.

I hadn't been to church in years. There once a time in my life when I wouldn't miss a Sunday without visiting any local church in Boston. Things have changed since then. I used to yearn to feel that warmth and security inside the four walls of protection. But that was before I realized that nothing could make me feel safe. As I opened the old wooden doors, a flood of cool, welcoming air enveloped me.

The pews were empty, save one figure sitting in the back rows. I walked forward slowly sitting behind him as gently as I could manage while taking in his comforting presence.

"You see those drawings on the ceilings?" He pointed to the depiction of Jesus on the far wall. "It's all the destruction and carnage written in the book of Revelations. It leads up to the Son of God returning to the new earth."

"I am so sorry Cas. I can't begin to tell you who sorry I am for everything. I need you now, more than ever." The angel turned around to face me, his face still strict and emotionless. I wiped a tear from my cheek, looking in every direction but into the blue eyes that would glance right into the darkness of my soul and scrutinize my every breath just to tell me that I was dying.

"No, you don't, Max."

"Yes! Yes, I do Castiel." I pleaded for him to understand that I truly did love him. I pleaded for him to realize that all I wanted was for him to wrap his arms around me and tell me that everything would be okay and that nothing that had happened was my fault.

"You don't know what you want, Maxine." Castiel said forcefully, reaching out to take my hand but I pulled back.

"Why is everything so plainly cut out for you? Why can't you just understand that I mean what I saw no matter how complex the circumstance?"

"You made your choice, Maxine, you chose him."

"I'm not with him now, am I? Cas, if you can't love me then do us both a favor and forget this even happened."

"Yes, I think I will." He answered, looking at Jesus watching us with eyes glazed over from the other wall.

It was as if I had witnessed something vastly dramatic. I wasn't sitting in back with an angel, looking out over rows of empty pews. I was standing in the back of the church staring at the flock of heads that paid me no mind as they listened to the pastor preaching from the word of God.

"We like stories with happy endings. Whether the story is in a book or movie or even in real life, we like stories with happy endings. Sometimes, however, stories don't have happy endings. Sometimes stories have sad endings. And although we prefer stories with happy endings to stories with sad endings, we understand that life and its stories don't always have happy endings. But sometimes stories have unjust endings. Those are the stories that we don't like—especially if we are the recipient of the injustice. We don't like living in a world of injustice, but because we live in a fallen world, we know that some stories have unjust endings." The preacher spoke on and I swear I saw him looking straight at me as he did so.

I woke up with such a start that Dean stirred beside me, mumbling in his sleep to kill the tiger or something along those lines. Sitting up as softly as I could, I brought my knees up against my chest to find that I still wore my boots. I grabbed Dean's jacket, which was thrown over the back rest of the armchair beside me, and slipped out into the chilly night. Though the canvas jacket was a bit too big for my unfortunately small body, I leaned against the Impala huddled in the large jacket anyway. The dream I had was like _Inception_ over again, save the random French woman falling out of windows and spinning tops going around endlessly.

"Cas?" I whispered, mostly to myself. "Cas, I know you're out there." The ring on my left hand felt cold against my skin. The wind cut at my sleep-filled face but I stood firm. "Cas? Cas, don't be a baby."

"What do you want Maxine?" I saw Cas standing near the back of the Impala with an steely look on his already animated face.

"I want you to be an angel and forgive me."

"I forgive you." I hollowed out my cheeks and bit the flesh, trying to avoid the tears that threatened to escape my eyes. But, when you're masochistic, and love the feeling of utter agony and tightness that forms in your throat when you're on the verge of hopelessness, then the tears excuse themselves and drop down your face without paying any heed to the choked sobbing that the little person in your head omits. Castiel took slow steps towards me, put his hands on either side of my face and kissed those tears away.

"I forgive you, Maxine." He repeated.

* * *

**The Road So Far...**


	42. Rag Doll

**As you can tell, the chapters are getting longer and I do regret to say that I am starting to wrap up with TFW :( BUT, if enough of you lovelies would like me to write another Max story then I guess I can do that! **

**Fun Fact: The names of all my chapters are just the song that I'm listening to at the moment...in case you were wondering why I had a lot of weird-o chapter titles! **

* * *

I had hot coffee and warm bagels sitting on the small table by the time my brothers woke up. Sleep never came back to me after I had seen Cas. I suppose I was too overjoyed with having Castiel back to even bother thinking about sleeping but I did have a lot of time on my hands so I made the best of it.

"Good morning, sunshine's." I grinned from the armchair near the window with Sam's laptop placed orderly in front of me. Dean sat up in bed, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

"Who are you and what did you do to my sister?" He said, watching as Sam slowly waddled over to me, mumbling thanks when he inhaled the freshly brewed coffee.

"How long have we been sleeping?" Sam asked, sitting in the chair opposite me and opening the small box from Einstein Bros. Bagels.

"Maybe six, seven hours." I answered, nibbling on my own breakfast sandwich. My older brother got to his feet, stalking toward the table and rummaging through the crisp wax paper till he found the large slice of apple pie that he knew I would buy.

"You," He stuck a plastic fork at me. "are awesome."

"Tell me something that I don't know." I tired weeding out the fifteen or more tabs that I had open on water creatures. I had gone to the coroner's office on my way to Einstein Bros. and inspected the body of the man found by Lake Heritage. It seemed that whatever kissed the man's jaw did it after he had died.

"Did you find something?" Sam asked when he saw me staring off into space.

"What?"

"Did you find anything, Max?" He repeated.

"Uh, yes, actually. I got the coroner's report and apparently the man didn't die by drowning. He had inflicted some severe trauma to the head but after he had been choked to death. The marks on his neck and throat are probably from something really hard and slender. Maybe iron,"

"So, where does that leave us?" Dean asked, taking the last bite from his pie.

"That leaves us," I sighed, feeling the effects of another sleepless night blanket me. "That leaves us in the dark. I mean, there are a lot of possibilities. Notably the aspares, which is a type of water nymph taken from Hindu lore. The aspare is supposedly the guardian of soldiers that die in battle. I mean, that makes sense because of the battle of Gettysburg but the victim had nothing to do with the battle."

"What was the vic's name?" Dean asked, reaching over Sam's shoulder to reach for the bagels.

"It actually doesn't say but here's a picture of him." I turned the laptop so they both could see the black and white photo.

"That's Willie Sutton." Sam exclaimed, picking up his laptop and making room in a little corner of the table before beginning to type away.

"Care to elaborate where you're going with this, Harriet the spy?" I asked, tapping my foot impatiently against the chair leg. Dean walked over to me, and I, expecting him to be idly romping about, found myself quite surprised when he sat on my lap. "Oh, God!" I groaned, when he let all his weight rest on me. "You're like a friggin hippo, you fat ass." Dean leaned against me so his back and my face were squished together. I flailed my arms about, as if that would somehow lessen the dead feeling that was starting up in my legs.

"Willie Sutton was a notorious bank robber." Sam explained from somewhere behind Dean. "He was big like Al Capone. And guess what Sutton and Capone have in common."

"Humor me, Sam." Dean said through a mouthful of food.

"They were both imprisoned in Philadelphia's Eastern State Penitentiary. You know, Sutton robbed about a hundred banks from the late 1920s till he was finally arrested in 1952 with several prison terms in between. He was also a master at breaking out of prisons. Dude, this guy made Jesse James and John Dillinger look like amateurs."

"And here I was thinking that Capone and Sutton had the same hair dresser." I pronounced with a heavy breath when Dean finally stood, clapping his hands together to get rid of the crumbs before saying,

"But how does that explain a dead dude dying again and ending up with a perfectly fresh corpse on Heritage?"

"I don't know, Dean. Willie Sutton was buried in his family plot in Brooklyn." Sam rubbed his eyes again, slowly typing a new keyword in the search engine.

"Anywho, you two should probably go check the penitentiary and I'll go scan Lake Heritage." I suggested, pulling an old, worn Marine sweatshirt that I had stuffed at the bottom of my rucksack.

"We should all go together, don't you think, Max? Lake Heritage to the Penitentiary is, like, three hours." Dean countered, looking at me with concerned eyes. "And, no offense, but you look like crap. Did you even sleep last night?"

"Yeah," I lied easily through my teeth.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine, Dean. I'm fine." I insisted, pulling off my sweatshirt.

"What's that?" Dean pointed to my lower back. Crap. "Is that more ink?"

"Wait, she has another tattoo?" Sam jumped up, a sneaky grin on his face, and glanced at my back.

"What's wrong with it?" I remember the day that I had _Semper Fidelis_ printed along my side with the text from my father's dog tags written below. I don't know. It was kinda a spur of a moment thing that had happened after I had been raised from the dead to find that my notorious lightsaber and sword had disappeared off my skin-not even leaving any sign of its existance.

"Nothing." Sam shrugged, taking his seat again. "You just never fail to surprise us, Max."

"Well, I'm glad I can keep you asshat's guessing." I murmured, sitting back down and leaning my head against the wall.

"Anything else?" Dean asked.

"Castiel gave me an anti-possession tattoo for my birthday." I was saying when the angel appeared out of nowhere, looking expectantly at us.

"If it isn't the good, old-fashioned lover boy," Dean sneered sarcastically.

"This is no time for antipathy, Dean." Cas said in a low voice, walking towards me and taking the amulet that hung around my neck in his fingers. "Crowley is looking for me, I heard."

"Yeah, what's up with that bro-mance, Cas?" I asked with a cheeky smile plastered on my mouth even after the angel gave me a cold stare.

"I don't know what Crowley wants with me, but I can't be with you anymore."

"I figured, Castiel. I mean, you haven't been helping us out much anyway." I spoke as he let go of my necklace and looked straight into my eyes.

"I'm sorry, Maxine."

Suddenly, I looked around to find myself in a dirty, dark basement. A man with a sling stood with his head down.

"Go to him," Cas whispered, nudging me toward the ragged man.

"Where am I?"

"In actuality, you're holed up in Tombstone, Arizona right now. Go, Max, this may be your only chance."I quietly scuffled toward the man who snapped his head up when I cleared my throat.

"Maxine?" He said, his voice was hoarse and strained.

"Daddy?"

"What are you doing here?" I took another step toward my father, cautiously eying him to make sure it was really him.

"What's going on dad? What happened?" His face was covered in small bruises and cuts.

"Dean's dying, Max."

"Again? I swear, it's becoming a habit for that little prick." John Winchester smiled sadly. "Dad, I'm sorry I left. I'm sorry about everything that I said to you and I'm sorry that-"

"Honey, shhh," My father pulled me toward him, wrapping his good hand around my shoulders as I held him tightly with my arms, crying into his shoulders. "Take care of my children, Castiel." I looked back to see the angel nodding slightly, his face still evenly set.

"Daddy, please don't go."I tried holding onto him even as he pried my arms away.

"Take care of your brothers, Maxie. They'll need you soon." Castiel came forward, taking my hand even as I tried going back to my father. "I love you, baby."

"I love you too, daddy."

"What the hell, Cas?! Don't you ever do that again!" Dean boomed, when I stood in the motel room again. My older brother put both of his hands on either side of my cheek, trying to meet my eyes. I wrapped my fingers around his wrists, pushing him away.

"Guys, can we just finish this gig? I really just want to get back to Bobby's." I stated, putting myself between Dean and Castiel.

"She's right Dean." Sam backed me up. "Let it go."

"Fine, let's just finish this damn job." My brother skulked, sitting back down on the edge of the bed where a half eaten breakfast bagel lay cold. I turned around to talk to Castiel but he was already gone. Sam headed to the shower and once I heard the water running I found enough courage to talk.

"Dean?"

"What?"

"What did dad say to you before he died?" Dean looked up at me from the bed. His eyes were tired and he looked like he had more on him then I had ever wanted him to bear.

"He…told me to take care of Sam."

"Did he say anything about me?"

"Max," Dean stood, reaching out for me. I stepped out of his reach, twisting my mouth to the side to keep from crying.

"It's fine, Dean. I was just wondering."

"No, Max, how did you know that dad said something about you? Did Sam or Cas—?"

"No, Sam or Cas didn't say anything. What did dad say, Dean? Please, no more secrets. No more trying to shield me from the real world. Whatever it is, I want to know." He sighed, leaning against the old television set.

"Before dad died, he told me to find you. It took us a couple of years but that's what I did, Max. He…He told me that angels were always looking after us." I smiled, feeling tears stinging my eyes. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. I'm—I'm great. I've never been happier." I wrapped my arms around his neck, resting my cheek on my brother's comfortable shoulder and smelling gun cleaning oil and whiskey. "I love you, Dee."

"Yeah, me too, monkee,"

"You can say it out loud, you know."

"Why would I want to do that?" Dean asked with a small smile.

"'Cause I'm your sister and you know you love me."

"Yeah, I know I love you, Max. There, I said it. Don't make a habit out of trying to soften me up."

"Why would I want to do that?" I asked, hoping he hadn't seen what I had done to the Impala earlier in the morning.

"'Cause you have had more ink on you then can last four lifetimes."

"I like my simper fi tattoo. It'll look cooler if you see my gun and my tattoo at the same time."

"You should seriously be the pinup girl for the NRA." I laughed at his suggestion, pulling on a plaid, button up shirt and leaning over my bag. I think things were taking a turn for the better. I was guilt-free for the moment and I had my brothers and my angel. What more could I ask for?

"Hey," I said, standing up straight, looking back at Dean who was washing his face at the sink. "remember when we were little—"

"I try not to," Dean interrupted.

"No, no, remember when we were little and Sam had just learned to do addition? He was like, 'Dean, two plus two equals five.' And you were like, 'Nooo, Sammy, it equals four but you were so close.'"

"And you were like, 'Sam! You're so stupid!'" Dean chuckled, pointing at me while he talked, waving his arms mockingly when he added, "Because you were so smart with your baby fat and your rabbit teeth."

"What are you guys talking about?" Sam asked, coming out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped at his waist. I glanced at Dean, pointing at our little brother.

"Is this the weenie that wouldn't let me see him walking around in his boxers?"

"Seems like," Dean replied while going into the humid bathroom and closing the door. I gave Sam an awkward look over, my eyebrows arched, and walked away.

I was itching to get going. Lake Heritage was our first stop and I couldn't wait to see Dean's face when he started up the Impala. I sat in the backseat, pinching the flesh on my forearms and biting the inside of my lips to keep from laughing when puffs of smoke rose from the exhaust. My older brother's eyes widened so much that I swear he was about to commit suicide.

"What did you do?" Sam asked after Dean had nearly sprinted outside.

"That's for me to know and you to find out." I answered, grinning devilishly.

"These pranks are going to escalate really quickly, you know."

"I'm thoroughly counting on it sweet brother o' mine. What happened?" I asked as Dean slammed the driver's door and started the engine again.

"Shut up," He replied, pulling out of the motel parking lot and onto the main road.

"So, what are we looking for exactly?" I asked walking between Sam and Dean while we stopped to look at the shore of Lake Heritage, watching men in the water throw their fishing lines out.

"I don't know." Sam shrugged. "Another dead body maybe." I looked up to give him a concerned look. It wasn't like Sam to be so abrupt. That was Dean's job. I saw a fairly attractive guy sitting alone at the bench.

"Where are you going?" Dean asked as I made my way to the bench. I just smirked before continuing.

"Is anyone sitting here?" I asked the guy sweetly, my voice going a few octaves higher. The guy looked up from his book and smiled.

"Nope, you're good." Sitting down, I saw my brothers trying to act as inconspicuous as they could from the corner of my eye.

"Hey," I turned to the dreamboat sitting next to me. "just out of idle interest, you wouldn't happen to know about that dead body that floated to shore a few days ago, would you?" He raised his chocolate eyes to me again, his dark hair contrasting flawlessly with his mocha colored skin.

"I just heard that the cops were really freaked out. They wouldn't let anyone near the body. It was kinda like it was an alien or something." He laughed. "Why do you ask?"

"Oh," I smiled mischievously. "just out of idle interest. I'm Max, by the way."

"Chris," He held out his hand which I took.

"Wow, you shake like a Marine." I complimented, feeling Sam and Dean's eyes on me.

"I actually am. I'm just visiting home for a week or so…trying to stay as far under the radar as I can."

"Same,"

"You're a Marine?"

"Yeah," I laughed, acting a bit embarrassed. "I know. I don't look like much."

"No, no. I just…you don't seem like the type."

"If I had a nickel for every time someone said that to me." Chris grinned, closing his book and giving me his full attention.

"Where're you stationed?"

"Quantico." I answered, feeling my face got hot as he smiled and nodded. Everything about him was immaculate…his face, his jaw, his hair.

"You're really far out." I shrugged innocently, throwing in an ingenuous giggle here and there.

"Guys in my company can get tiresome. I have a few days leave and I heard there was a dead guy floating. So, here I am. What about you? Do you always like sitting by yourself?" My lips twisted upward even though my mind was telling me to suppress it.

"I mean, if it can get you to let me buy you a drink then, yes."

"I guess you're buying me a drink then." I forced my gaze off his mouth, biting my lower lip. Our eyes were locked for a brief second before we heard a familiar cough. I looked up to see Dean looming menacingly.

"Ah," I stood up awkwardly, trying to shake off the tension that Dean brought. "this is my older brother Dean. Dean, this is Chris." Dean grudgingly shook Chris' hand, than held possessively to my elbow.

"We should be going." My guard dog said in a low voice.

"Yeah," I gently shoved Dean away before turning back to Chris. "You still wanna buy me that drink?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I do." He replaced the hard shelled Marine act with a kind expression. "Say, eight at 20 Lincoln Square?"

"Sounds good. I'll see you then, I guess." Chris grinned again before Dean led me away back to the Impala.

"Geez, Dean, you can be nice for once." I snapped when we were out of hearing range.

"That's what you get for messing with my baby."

"It was vegetable oil, for God's sake. Get over yourself."

"Just you wait you little buck-toothed monkee. I'll make your life a living hell."

"Too late," I smirked, pulling open the back door to the Impala and patting Sam's head as he sat in the front. "So, while you two had your head in the sky. I heard from a reliable source, who has offered to buy me a drink tonight, that Sam was, indeed, correct. The body of Willie Sutton was taken away with high security. Now, we just need to figure out what evil, son of a bitch we're gonna gank." My brothers turned to look at me like I was crazy.

"You mean, _we_, as in, me and Dean are going to figure out what we're gonna gank, right?" Sam inquired, watching me absently glance around for an answer.

"Fine!" I sighed, giving in. "Yes. Come on! Did you see that guy? He was smokin'. I was about to be all like: ahooga! ahooga!"

"That's it." Dean groaned, both of them turning back around. "She has lost it. She has finally lost it."

I was returned to the motel before Sam and Dean headed to the Penitentiary. Once I couldn't hear the low grumble of the Impala's engines I grabbed my wallet and headed to the library which was conveniently four blocks down the road. I had at least six hours till my liquor get-together with Chris, so I figured that I might as well be of some use. Truth be told, I wasted my whole day cramped up in that stuffy library. Maybe I was anxious to see Chris again or maybe it was that sickening sensation inside of my gut that told me that I had sent my brothers to their deaths. I had to be with them if anything happened. I had to be the one to sacrifice myself for my brothers because I was the last Winchester girl left. If I were to die then I would die like my mother. I would die protecting my boys. It was sheer denial or maybe it was just masochism. Whatever it was, I was willing to do it for my family.

"Didn't think you're brother would let you come," Chris smiled, standing to pull out a barstool for me. I returned his warm greeting and sat beside him, feeling a fire erupt at the pit of my stomach.

"It took a lot of persuading. Whiskey please," I said to the bartender before turning back to see Chris watching me intently. "What?"

"Uh, sorry." He stammered. "It's just that most girls go for the candy-colored martinis."

"I'd take whiskey over a martini any day. So, why'd you join the Marines?"

"Well, in short, my dad was in the Navy and my grandfather was in the Army. I was kinda obligated to go somewhere. You?"

"Same boat," I replied. "except, it was the family business or the Marines. I didn't have much of a choice so I just chose the latter."

"It couldn't have been that bad." He remarked quietly, sipping his own glass of whiskey. "The family business, I mean."

"Believe me, it's bad enough." I sniffed not rudely, but because he would never know the one thing that defined me as a person. He would never know the one thing in the world that I stood for and fought against. He would never know the real Maxine Winchester: daughter, sister, Marine, hunter.

* * *

**The Road So Far...**


	43. Don't Talk, Just Kiss

_I'm too sexy for my shirt, too sexy for my shirt, so sexy it hurr-tts. Yeah, I'm a model you know what I mean and I do my little turn on the catwalk…_

"What is that?" I asked, meeting Chris' eyes as we lay on a motel room bed a few hours later.

"I think it's your phone." He replied, motioning with his eyes to my phone which was carelessly tossed on the bedside table. Chris reached over and picked it up. "Do you know a 'Sasquatch'?" I chuckled to myself and put the phone to my ear as he began giving me gentle love bites.

"You have great timing, Sammy." There was heavy, labored breathing on the other end. "Hello?"

"Max," I could hear the wince in Sam's voice. "It's a Nixie."

"Is a Nixie a naked pixie?" I asked, running my fingers through Chris' short hair. "'Cause I know Dean's gonna love that."

"Dean's missing. Max, you have to burn the nixie in the lake—" The line was cut suddenly and I sat up, pulling the covers over my bare body.

"What's wrong?" Chris asked, watching as I fumbled around trying to find my clothes.

"My brothers are in trouble. Where's the closest bus station heading to Lake Heritage?"

"I can drive you," He said, climbing to his feet and hurriedly pulling his clothing on.

"No, no." I tried not to panic but he could sense the sickening crumble in my tone as I, too, found my clothes. "This is beyond you." I quickly combed through my hair with my fingers, throwing on my shirt and my coat.

"You said you were from Kansas. Did you know a John Winchester?"

"What? No." I lied, snapping as I struggled to slide into my boots. I was too worried about Sam and Dean to even remotely wonder how he knew my father.

"You can't lie to another hunter, Max." Chris said, grabbing his keys and his wallet from the nightstand.

Before I could say a word, he took my hand. We ran quickly down the four flights of stairs and into the parking garage where a black '62 Chevy Camaro stood.

"Holy hell," I gasped with wide, adoring eyes as I sat in the front seat. Chris started up the engine and the tires squealed as he pressed the accelerator. "I never told you I was from Kansas." Chris let out a breath, giving me a fleeting glimpse before turning back to the road.

"It wasn't really hard." He explained, not superciliously but with a gentle insight. "The anti-possession tattoo kinda gave it away and the dog tags on your lower back." I scoffed, rubbing my temple, feeling agony rising in my throat. I guess he'd been exploring.

"So, what, was it all a lie," I asked, hating the thought of being on the receiving end. "the whole Marine thing?"

"No," He quietly whispered, somehow knowing what I was thinking. "How do we kill the nixie?"

"We have to burn it. You wouldn't happen to have a flare gun, would you?" Chris smiled, throwing on arm behind the seats and rummaging through the duffle that was on the platform with the speakers. He handed me a small plastic case with the gun and a few flare rounds. I loaded the ammo and pulled the slide back.

_I'm too sexy for my shirt, too sexy for my shirt, so sexy it hurr-tts. Yeah, I'm a mod—_

"Sam?" I asked into the phone. There was an eerie silence then a short burst of demonic laughter.

"Tra la la," A sadistic sing-song-y voice giggled from the other end. "little girl wants to save her brothers. But she's just gonna end up like her mother. Your mother can't help you, little girl. Little girl is lonely, too wrapped up with her little curls. Little girl is going to die. Little girl is going to die! LITTLE GIRL IS GOING TO DIE!" I snapped the phone shut, a slight whimper escaping my mouth as Chris stopped at the lake.

"Stay here," I ordered, jumping out of the car.

"I'm not letting you go alone." Chris opposed, catching my arm and reeling me back.

"And I'm not letting you get hurt so stop being a little baby and stay here." I shoved him back, climbing up the large fence with educated footing.

I jogged to the darkest part of the lake, jumping over the horsetails and the bulrushes before landing knee deep in the murky water. I struggled through the rough algae and thick water plants before stopping a few feet off where a woman sat on a large boulder. Her head was ornamented with water lilies and her fishlike tail moving to and fro on the rock. She tilted her head, inspecting me with such intensity that I couldn't move nor take my eyes off her for a few seconds.

"What are they doing to my brothers?" I growled, curling my toes inside of my shoes to channel out my anger.

"Your brothers are murderers. Because of them, many innocent people have died." She spoke; her voice was like an echoing song that laced the cool night with certain sweetness.

"Take me in their place." She just smiled, sliding gracefully into the water and coming to the surface a few feet away from me.

"No," The nixie murmured. "your heart is pure. You are a warrior. You have saved many people. Your brothers must die. And the lunatics are giving them what they deserve." She placed a soft, wet hand on my cheek, her auburn hair falling over her chest.

"Stay away from me," I took a step back deeper into the lake.

"I'm sorry but your brothers are already dead. You can be with us." She smiled excitedly, though it didn't show with her bodily language. "You don't need that hunter you came with. You said so yourself, you don't want this life. You don't want to cry for the people who have died." She glided closer to me and I continued deeper into the water.

"Will it help?" I whispered hoarsely, not bothering to wipe the tears that stung my face. The nixie nodded. "How?"

"You can escape this world of tears. You can be of this world but, at the same time, you will be in the paradise under the water. You'll find peace. You find content and rest. You will never shed one more tear."

"Can I die?"

"Not by any means of human ingenuity, no," My exhausted breathing hitched as I smirked and said,

"How about fire?" She gasped and I ducked below the surface as Chris fired the flare gun, hitting the nixie in the back. I tried swimming away as fast as I could but the half dead water creature grabbed my ankle as she swam deeper and farther into the lake. My lungs burned as I kicked and struggled to reach the surface. I was almost about to let go of my breath when her grip loosened. Looking back, I saw as she sank to the dusky bed of the lake, her arms outstretched and her eyes blank…looking towards the moon. I hit the surface, gasping and looking around to find the shoreline.

"Max!" I heard Chris screaming, he was waist-deep in the water. With all my might, I swam towards him, my energy waning with every stroke. The realization on how cold the water was added on to my tense, tight muscles. Chris pulled me to shore, wrapped his arms around my shivering body as I coughed out the disgusting water. I whimpered again, being so cold and alone without my brothers. He leaned my head against his shoulder blade as I sat between his legs, feeling the warmth of his skin, his cheek pressed against my own. The winds icy fingers accentuated the beads of lake water that dripped down my chin and off the tips of my hair.

_I'm too sexy for my shirt, too sexy for my shirt, so sexy it hurr-tts. Yeah, I'm a model you know what I mean and I do my little turn on the—_

"I'm going to kill him." My voice quivered as I shakily put my phone against my ear. "De-Dean?"

"Monkee, are you okay? Are you hurt?"

"I—when you get ov-over here, I'm kicking your sorry ass back to hell, you brain-damaged little prick." I trembled in Chris' arms.

"What can I say, monkee? We kicked those crazy asses back to the dark side of the moon." Dean chuckled darkly. "We're heading back now." I closed my phone.

"Thanks," I mumbled, scooting out of Chris' arms and wavering as I stood to my feet, slapping the green debris from my damp clothing. "I really don't know what's going on or why or how the nixies and lunatics are related so I'm just as lost as you right now."

"I understand." Chris smiled shyly, watching my face as I awkwardly glanced around, trying to control the way my body shook. "I can drive you back to your motel, if you want." I licked my dried lips and shook my head as we began trudging back to the fenced surrounding.

"I'll walk back; see if I can't dry off. And I wouldn't want to ruin that beautiful car of yours." I managed a weak smile.

"Your dad talked a lot about you, you know."

"What?" I inquired, clutching my soggy clothing closer against my moist skin.

"Yeah, he was my mentor. Got me into the business,"

"You're kidding, right?" I laughed quietly and unbelievingly.  
"Yeah, no, he always talked about his kids. Always told me about his second son who had gotten into one of the best colleges in the country," Of course Dad talked about Sam. "and joined the Marines." I nearly tripped on a loose stone.

"He talked about me?"

"Yeah," Chris smiled to the side. "I didn't know he had a daughter. He didn't look the type."

"Oh, well, that's my dad." I shrugged incoherently, a hint of disdain in my whisper as I climbed the metal enclosure separating us from the Camaro.

"He loved you, you know." With a huff, I stood on the other side, next to the car.

"That's exactly why he talked about me like I was a dude." I scoffed, without any smudge of cynicism. I knew my dad loved me.  
"So," He started, trying to find something to say after a quiet, comfortable silence had fallen between us.

"So," I chuckled, swallowing a hard lump that was caught in my throat. "Thanks for buying me a drink. Most of the time a hunter's out to get laid…"

"I wasn't looking to, actually." I shrugged, highlighting the hopelessness into the moment that stood stale as I reached up and brought my lips against his. It didn't take long for our kiss to deepen. There was something about this guy that had me trusting him entirely. I grazed my lips over his hot skin in the backseat of the Camaro, trying to capture every inch of the warmth that chilled my own body. My mind was telling me that this was wrong and that I would have to explain to Castiel again but another part of me was eager and weightless. I dug my nails into his back, pulling him as close I could against me. Our wet clothes were in a heavy heap on the floor and the heat that flushed over my face and the coolness of the leather had me whispering for more. It was one of those times when something hurts so bad but feels so good that you'd take it without complaining. I hooked my fingers on the dog tags around his neck and gently tugged him in for another kiss as we lay quite content in the back of the Camaro.

_I'm too sexy for my shirt, too sexy for my shirt, so sexy it hurr-tts. Yeah, I'm a model you know what I mean and I do my little—_

"What?" I sighed, half concentrated on drawing shapes in the palm of Chris' hand.

"I'm guessing you're not coming in until the morning?" Sam asked from the other end.

"I'm too comfortable where I am." I felt Chris smile near my ear.

"Just…" Sam breathed, obviously exhausted. "Just be in by nine tomorrow."

"Yes, mother," I answered, hanging up and nestling closer into Chris' chest as he pulled a blanket over our bodies.

"You should sleep," He whispered, brushing a loose strand of hair from my cheek and kissing where it once was.

"Hmm," I mumbled, closing my eyes. "what about you?"

"I'll try."

"What do you mean you'll try?" I craned my neck back to look into his face.

"I have insomnia."

"Really?" I said gently, wanting not to sound skeptical.

"I have nightmares occasionally but I don't want to bother you about it. Just go to sleep, and I'll make sure you're alright."

I've been having an awful lot of dreams lately. There was the whole dream-ception thing with Castiel the other night and now I swear I was going into one of Sam's cheesy dreams. When I closed my eyes I saw a white picket fence. An eerily familiar figure lay on a blanket on the greenest grass I have ever seen, looking up into the clear blue skies, a German shepherd sleeping against her leg. Then a handsome, dark-haired man came out of the perfect little, flower covered cottage and leaned over to kiss the woman before sitting beside her. It was me and it was Chris. Huh, it's funny what love can do to perfectly stable people. I watched the alternate reality figure of myself playfully push the alternate reality figure of Chris away, standing up to go back into the house, the beautiful pure-bred shepherd following loyally after her. Chris jumped up, wrapped both his arms around her, pulling her close to him. The ideal version of me laughed and squealed like a little schoolgirl, calling out for the dog to save her.

I awoke to three abrupt knocks on the back window of the Camaro. Dean looked down at me with wide eyes, not believing what he was seeing. A surprised squeak came out of my throat as clutched the blanket to my chest and elbowed Chris who had fallen asleep.

"Turn around!" I tried telling Dean through the window, trying not to scar him for life. He just rolled his eyes and threw up his hands hopelessly as he aimed his back to me. Chris and I slowly pulled on our clothes, which were still a bit damp, struggling in the small enclosed space.

"I'm in for hell, aren't I?" He asked goodheartedly, finally sliding into his jacket while I tried my best to fix my hair in the rear view mirror. I let out a deep breath.

"Yeah," I finally admitted, giving him a sympathetic shrug. "I don't think Sam will be a problem though. You just have to look out for Dean. He's got a mean left hook."

"Thanks for the warning."

"You bet," I smiled before stepping out of the car. Dean refused to meet my eyes. I think seeing your little sister sleeping with some guy in the back seat of a car in the middle of a public park is about as bad as it can get. "Right Said Fred, Dean? Really?" I referred to my new and improved ringtone.

"What can I say? I'm too sexy for my shirt." Dean replied, finally, but hesitantly, looking into my eyes. I guess images like that don't leave you. Chris stood close beside me, getting ready for the sucker punch. "Well, good then. We're all in one piece." Dean stated, much to my surprise. Sam, on the other hand, stared at Chris. My brother towered protectively in his entire moose-like splendor.

"Chris, this is my little brother Sam. Sam, this is Chris." I stood between them, watching them exchange very uncomfortable handshakes.

"Thanks for looking after her." Sam said with a condescending air. "We'll make sure it doesn't happen again."

"Glad I could help," Chris replied in his deep voice, not breaking under Sam's killer stare.

"Oh, by the way," Sam turned halfway to the Impala, an I-told-you-so smile gracing his face. "Castiel called, said he wanted his wedding ring back."

"Wait, you're married?" Chris questioned, his eyebrows furrowed in disbelief.

"No," I quickly spoke. "It was—kinda, yes, but I was totally wasted when it happened so it's not really a…" I trailed off, looking down at my feet in shame, wanting to cry and punch Sam at the same time. "Ha, guess you hate me now." I sniffed bitterly, facing him as I did so.

"No," Chris cupped my chin and lifted my eyes to meet his. "I don't think I've had a good night sleep until I met you. That doesn't mean much to you but it does to me. I hope I can see you around, Max Winchester." He entwined his fingers through mine, and kissed me slowly and meaningfully. It wasn't hard saying goodbye but my stomach ached at the thought of never seeing him again. Hunters had to stay separate. It was a screwed up social standing of: divided we stand, together we fall.

"Why do you smell like a wet fish?" Dean inquired, covering his nose with the back of his hand while he drove back to the motel. Sam was skulking in the seat in front of me, staring angrily at the world passing by through his window. I lowered my eyes, feeling thoroughly ashamed, and murmured,

"I had to kill a mermaid."

"You had it good," Dean started cheerfully, opening his window so that the cold air blew viciously through my hair. "Those loony sons of bitches went all honey boo boo child on our asses."

"That's weird, Dean." I stated, wincing while I tried to calm my hair down. The damp strands refused to settle and began frizzing. Great, just great. "What happened up there?"

"Uhm, that's a story for another time." My older brother smiled overemphasizing his kindness to the point of sarcasm. "It was no Joliet, but the Quakers did pretty good for themselves architectural wise."

"Spoken just like a convict," I muttered, sitting on my freezing cold hands and watching the beautiful fields of grain and rye pass before my eyes. "and a gay man."

"Shut your pie hole Bugs Bunny. Let's see you gnaw on a carrot while you have crazy people poking around your arm." Dean teased, gearing the Impala to a stop in front of motel, the door groaning as he stepped out. Without a word Sam also left the car, carrying a snazzy leather folder case with him as he did so. They were hiding something. I don't know what or why but they were.

After I had taken a long, hot, steamy shower, I came out of the warm bathroom, my clean hair wrapped in a white towel. Sam and Dean stopped talking abruptly as I stepped into the main room, tossing my roll of dirty clothes into a Wal-Mart bag and shoving it in my rucksack.

"Uh, Max, Jo dropped the Charger at Bobby's if you were worried."

"I wasn't worried." I told Dean. Even though Jo was head over heels in love with my brother I still considered her the only sister figure I had. Maybe it was a girl thing. I trusted Jo with the Charger.

"Well, get your stuff, we're leaving soon." He groaned as he stood, shaking out his legs and half-heartedly stretching before leaving Sam and I in the motel room alone, along with an ass-load of tension.

"I don't have anything against him, Max. I just don't want you to get your heart broken." Sam finally admitted, looking up at me with desperate, puppy dog eyes. "It's not like you to have sex with some dude that you haven't known for twelve hours."

"Sam, I wouldn't be spontaneous if I wasn't totally sure. Yeah, he was a hunter but he was also a Marine."

"So, you slept with him just because he was a Marine?"

"Nooo, I slept with him because he was a Marine _and _a hunter." I let out a breath of laughter, scolding myself for how verdant I sounded. "For the first time, I could relate with a guy. Sullivan was my first love I was infatuated with him just because I was young. As for Ash, that was acid through and through." I changed my phone ringtone from Right Said Fred back to _Smoke on the Water _by Deep Purple before looking back up at Sam, who was nodding understandingly. I walked to the window, glancing at as Dean circled the Impala, checking furiously under the rims and in the back with his fist clenched around a fold of paper. Smirking, I sat down across from my little brother, nodding my head out to the Impala.

"What did you do this time?" Sam chuckled.

"I wrote a note apologizing for an accident that never happened."

"You're a sick psychopath, Max."

"I'm not a psychopath," I stated in a British accent. "I'm a high-functioning sociopath. Do your research, Sam."

"I feel like you're making a reference."

"It's from _Sherlock_."

"Aren't you a little too old to be watching BBC?"

"Psh, aren't you a little too old to look like John Bonham? May he rest in peace,"

"That was a terrible comeback, Max." Sam sighed, shaking his head.

"You're a…terrible comeback, John Bonham. May he rest in peace,"

"He inhaled his own vomit."

"Sam, he drank four quadruple vodkas. He is my hero!" Just then, Dean burst into the room, grumbling to himself and cursing the person who had supposedly collided with his baby.

"I'm gonna rip him limb from limb!" Dean growled, chucking the note at the wall.

"What happened?" I asked, innocent as can be, and Dean knew what was going on. He huffed and lay exhausted on the floor as I opened Sam's laptop and quickly searched for the scariest clown picture I could.

"Why don't you ever pick on Sam?"

"Don't be silly, I don't pick on little girls." I laughed, and Sam blessed me with that bitchy face of his. "I should disembowel you for bringing up Cas in front of Chris."

"Please don't remind me!" Dean ordered, sitting up against the bed. "That is not an image I want living in my mind."

"Hey Sam," I looked up to see his face when I turned the screen towards him. Dean threw his head back and laughed when Sam jumped out of his skin, carefully and hastily slamming the laptop shut.

"That wasn't funny, Max!"

"You're right, you're right," I consented, putting my hands up. "but your face sure the hell was!" He shoved me a bit, refusing to step anywhere near his computer.

"What were you guys talking about?" Dean finally asked, a worried scowl staring up in his eyes and forehead, as he stood.

"Max was telling me how much I looked like John Bonham."

"May he rest in peace," Dean and I cried in unison, making Sam groan while shaking his head.

We reached South Dakota at around nine the next night. Even though we'd had a good conversation in the motel room, the car ride was awkward again. No one said a word and Dean didn't even turn the music on this time. For twenty straight hours, the Impala was driven by each of us—though Dean drove till we were sure he would fall asleep at the wheel. I noticed something during that car ride in my brothers' eyes. I noticed fear and silence. That scared the living hell out of me. That scared me to the point where I was so close to crying and throwing a temper tantrum, demanding to know what they were hiding. But like the conversation I had with Bobby so many years ago, I figured I was going to find out eventually.

_Well, when you do, you'll know._

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**The Road So Far...**


	44. The Sound of Silence

**Wow, last chapter! Where has the time gone? I couldn't wait any longer to post this. A final big thanks to everyone who took their time to read this. I can't imagine where I would be without your wonderful reviews! **

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I stared out into the blackness ahead of me—past the bright headlights of the Impala. There, in the empty void that I was driving further into, I saw an eerie, hopeless future. I should have known that nothing good ever came out of the night...out of the darkness. I suddenly became aware of Sam's soft snoring in the back seat while noticing Dean's eyes focused on my profile.

"You look like mom, " He said gently, a implication of reverence saddening his low voice. My face reddened due to the impulsive result of attention that I was given. A sharp pierce of pain ran through my bone but I did no more as wince. Dean watched as I rubbed the steering wheel with my thumb—agitated.

"You remember mom?" I finally gave in to his attempt at small talk with great uncertainty.

"Me and Sam," I rolled my eyes but didn't bother correcting his tainted grammar. "We saw her back in Kansas." Fury boiled within me as I forced myself to calmly pull the grumbling muscle car to the shoulder of the road to keep Sam from waking up.

"We made a deal that we'd never go back, Dean." I hissed, scowling so vehemently that a line formed in my forehead. "You and me. Don't you remember?"

"Sam wanted to go-"

"Don't blame Sam. He's too ignorant and stubborn to know any better. But you...I trusted you, Dean. And I thought you'd respect me enough to keep up your end of the deal."

"What did you expect me to do, Max? Dad had just died. He died because of me—He died for me." My brother seethed, his accusing eyes now burning into my helpless soul.

"I'm your sister, Dean. Stop trying to protect me from the truth."

"You can't handle the truth, Max! Every time I think I understand you you throw a bitch fit like you're reminding me that the person next to me isn't the person I knew ten years ago."

"But I am."

"No, you're not. You're some moonstruck, heartless bitch wearing my little sister's face."

"You know, in our line of work, that doesn't sound so off." Dean fumed at my sudden decline in damns given. "And you didn't have to go all Nicholson on me, Dean." My brother shot me a hard, icy stare but his facial expressions soften eventually.

"I know we said that we'd never go back to Lawrence, monkee," His voice was soothing now, as if he was trying to persuade both of us that what he was trying to say was for the better. "but I won't let you forget about mom." I nodded, easing my foot off the brake petal and continuing down the dark highway through Iowa.

The dawn was just breaking in a burst of warm colors with a deep tint of purple and blue when the Impala finally stopped in front of Bobby Singer's house. The old drunk stood on his rinky dink porch with a large bottle of booze in his hand.

"Starting the day off with a bang." I noted to myself as I geared the car to a stop, throwing my arm over the front seat to shake Sam's shoulder. "Dean let's go." I nudged my other brother with my toe.

"Five more minutes." He mumbled unintelligibly, his chin still sitting uncomfortably on his chest.

"Sam?" I looked back, hoping that I would have to carry the three thousand pound moose into the house. Sam didn't wake either. Instead, he settled even further into the leather seats. "Fine, whatever. I hope you two break your necks."

Bobby kept his aging eyes covered under his trucker hat. When I glanced over the old hat, I saw that his eyes were distant and doleful. What was up with everyone today? Too much angst. Too much testosterone. Wearily, I made my way up to the third door on the left. The small, doubled windowed bedroom was still welcoming after years and years of occasional visits. I fell into the full mattress, tucking my arms under my head over the pillow and settling into a short nap despite the sunlight that streamed through the windows. Even when I fell into a calm, resolute slumber, I heard heavy footsteps approach my bed and felt someone kiss my temple and brush my hair out of my face. It was something so surreal that I didn't bother contemplating if it were a dream or not.

I awoke to the feeling of intense heat. Propping myself up on my elbow, I kicked off a blanket that I don't remember putting over myself. My face was flushed and my steps were groggy as I stared at myself in the small mirror propped against the nightstand. There was a certain, unpleasant air that settled over the house. A feeling of supernatural involvement. Stumbling down the stairs and into the kitchen, my brothers stopped talking abruptly as I collapsed into a chair in front of Dean at the table. Their faces were reserved and made me think that something bad was going to take place.

"Here," Sam placed a packet of papers before me. "sign these."

"What is it?" I took Sam's serious face for a joke as I leafed absently through the papers clipped together.

"Annulment documents." Sam stated. "Cas already signed them."

"Wha-?" I sighed out an abrupt laugh, looking from the firm faces of my brothers to Bobby, who leaned silently against the fridge. "I thought Cas and I were on the same page now."

"Well, you're not. So sign the papers, Max." I glanced hesitantly at Dean, who nodded slightly in emotionless approval. Sam pointed to every space that I was supposed to scribble out my name or scrawl out my initials before stopping at the last page. I stared down at Castiel's immaculate signature written out in black ink. I caught my breath when I saw a smudge at the end—the size of a teardrop. Taking a deep chestful of musty air, I signed my name slowly at first before ending with messy, unattractive chicken scratch, throwing down the pen and letting out the oxygen I had held in.

"Good," Sam sniffed, gathering the heavy paperwork into his swanky leather folder, while sharing a knowing look with Dean. "I'm taking this to the courthouse." Then, Sam Winchester leaned over and placed a soft kiss on my cheek. "I'm doing this because I care about you, Mackie."

"I know, Sam." I forced a smile, squinting to block the swell of burning tears. "I know."

A part of me broke away entirely as Sam left Bobby's house. I turned back to glance at the glass of untouched whiskey in front of Dean, twisting the familiar sapphire ring off my finger. Dean watched my face keenly as I set the Celtic ring at the center of the table with a metallic clack, that shook the weak foundation on which my heart was built upon.

"Crowley showed up at Philly," Dean grunted, sitting up straighter in his chair, his hazel eyes still set wholly on me.

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" I scoffed.

"He wasn't lying, Max. Something big is coming and it's coming for us."

"What's coming, Dean?"

"That doesn't matter, Max. All that matters is that it's coming for me and Sam and not you."

"What are you trying to say?"

"I'm telling you get out of here, Max!" I jumped slightly as his voice rose. "Get out of here. Change your name. Ditch the Charger. Go to the suburbs and get that apple-pie life you've always dreamed of. Just don't come back."

"Where do you want me to go, Dean?"

"I don't care where you go, Max. Just don't let me watch you die again." I turned back to Bobby, hoping he'd reach out and support me but the old drunk just lowered his head.

"Are you serious, Dean?"

"Yeah,"

"What did Cas say about it?"

"Cas signed the papers." Without a word I walked up the creaky old stairs one last time and opened the third door on the left one last time. It had never been home. Even I had known that deep down. I knew where home was. But I knew I could never go there.

Bobby and Dean looked up to see me standing with all my belongings in a olive green surplus duffel that I had saved from my military service. My eyes inspected their unusually calm expressions. I smirked bitterly to myself when I realized that Sam had weaseled his way out of this goodbye. I emptied my pockets and placed Bobby's house keys and the keys to the Charger beside Cas' ring. Turning back to the only family I had left, I said,

"I'll see you two on the other side, then."

They didn't stop me. Hell, they didn't even say goodbye. I gently shut the back door as I stepped out into the sunlight, casting one last glimpse at the Impala and the Charger. As I trudged through the cool day I didn't grow tired. I didn't get tired because I knew that I'd have to save my strength to get where ever I was going.

A few truckers gave me rides to where ever they were going. Like I said, I had no idea where I was heading to. But the truckers were pretty swell folk if you ignored the smell and the empty beer bottles. God knows I was used to it. The old timers would tell me stores about when they were young and crazy. They'd tell me about their time in Vietnam or Grenada. I'd listen to the way they talked about their soldier buddies because I knew exactly what it meant to be close to brothers. I laughed when they laughed and I cried when they cried.

Middle-aged drivers would mostly talk about their families: ex-wife, kids, grandkids. Whatever crossed their fancy. I shut my mouth and listened—realizing how good I had it. I may have lost my parents and my half-brother but these men had lost everything. By the time we reached whatever company the trucker delivered to, I was sorry that I let their stories into my conscience. I knew that I would miss them.

The last fast-food eating trucker was sweet enough to let me off in a shopping complex beside the local bus station in Falls City, Nebraska.

"Here," He said with a toothy grin behind his dark stubble, tossing me a folded fifty dollar bill. "take care of yourself, pumpkin." I cringed inwardly when I heard the nickname Bobby had once called me.

"Thanks, Chuck," I smiled warmly, composing myself. "you too." Shutting the high door with a final thud, I didn't turn around to wave goodbye or to watch the large truck fade out into the sunset. That's just make me feel sadder than I already was.

After I had organized a complex bus route—that I was bound to forget—through my head, I walked into a small Chinese restaurant. Diamond paneled mirrors decorated either side of the wall and I glanced at my travel worn face before ordering a small meal. Setting my duffel beside me, I sat exhausted in a hard cushioned seat next to the wall. The wait wasn't very long, maybe a half hour or so. But what was I going to do? Might as well kill time, I figured.

I ate my meager portioned meal alone without a care in the whole world. That is, until I met a pair of brown eyes in the reflection of the mirror. He came over and sat in the seat opposite me, a surprised, pleased sign of happiness brightening his face.

"Didn't think I'd see you again." I shrugged in response, crushing my napkin in my my hand. "Where're your brothers?"

"I'm on my own now."

"Oh, where're you heading to?"

"Anywhere but here," I admitted, with a shy glance at his face. "I'm thinking Boston. The family business wasn't my brand of whiskey."

"You could come with me."

"Would you sleep better at night if I did?" He chuckled and nodded, watching me open the fortune cookie that came with my meal. A smile spread across my face as I folded the strip of paper after I had skimmed over it.

"You gonna read it out loud?"I looked up, grinning into his eyes.

"Naw, I think I'll keep this one for myself."

It had read:

_The hard times will begin to fade. _

_Joy will take their place._

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**Part 2 is up! It's called _The Family Winchester-Sins of a Father_. It would have been ever so hard to find if I hadn't said :)  
**

**The Road So Far...**


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